


How Does it Feel to Have a Heartbeat?

by juandrekshun1



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Disorder, Depression, M/M, Past Abuse, Psychological Trauma, Smut, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:48:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 30,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28884162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juandrekshun1/pseuds/juandrekshun1
Summary: One is a harmless English major with anxiety that gets drunk on cheap wine and writes deep poetry about his true feelings. The other is a world-renowned singer that parties with celebrities and has too many secrets to count. But both have one thing in common: they hate this place they call the world. And they both want to leave it.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Zayn Malik/Liam Payne
Comments: 11
Kudos: 10





	1. Author’s Note

**Author's Note:**

> This story is also on Wattpad.
> 
> This is an continuation of my other story, ‘Fall Into Midnight,’ which is the Ziam version of this plot line.

Hi! This is basically just a note to tell you (the reader) about any trigger warnings that I think are necessary. Please know that if there is anything on the list below that triggers you, don't read this story. Protect yourself, please. I cannot stop you through the computer screen, but do yourself a favor.

Triggers:  
Abuse  
Suicidal Thoughts/Attempts  
Depression  
Anxiety Disorders  
Childhood Trauma (Violent Flashbacks)  
Homophobic Language and Actions

Again, if any of these give you the hee-bee-jee-bees, click off of the story. Pick a different one. BE NICE TO YOURSELF!

Side note: there is sexual content in this, but it’s not the focus of the story.


	2. Louis - Falling

Mae West said, “You only live once, but if you do it right, once is enough.”

He’s always wondered about that quote. What exactly does it mean? How do you do life ‘right’ if you never live again to know what was wrong? It just doesn’t make sense.

Sure, everyone’s heard of ‘YOLO.’ You only live once.

See, now that’s more like it. There’s no inner meaning. It’s just like carpe diem. Get in, get out, and live life to the fullest in between. Have fun.

And that is exactly why he’s sitting on his bed, chugging a cheap bottle of fake Chardonnay, and typing down the words that were racing through his head. This is a normal scene for him. Supposedly the term is ‘natural habitat.’ That sure summed up his animal-like behavior.

His fingers fly over the keys on the computer, his lips quirking up at the corners as he reads what he’s writing. It’s good, that's for sure. Good enough to get him an A? We’ll see.

He flinches at the sound of the door opening, but instantly relaxes when he hears that it’s Liam’s voice that calls his name.

“Bedroom!” he shouts back, taking another sip from the bottle.

There’s the faint sound of footsteps and in no time at all, the door opens, revealing the man himself. Everything about him screams ‘narc,’ from his perfect hair, to his rounded glasses, to his large folder of homework he was no doubt about to do. But Louis sticks around for him anyways because he isn’t all that bad once you get to know him. Well, he isn’t all that bad once he’s hammered.

Liam sighs in exasperation. “Louis, are you drunk again?”

Louis glances at the almost drained bottle of wine sitting beside him, then back up at his friend. He knows he is — his head is foggy and every word he writes he has to retype because he spelled it wrong. However, he isn’t about to tell Liam that.

“‘Course not,” he mumbles.

His friend scoffs and places the folder in his hand down on the table. Crossing his arms over his surprisingly broad chest, he leans against the door frame, his face stern and judging. Like c’mon, Payno, can you be anymore disappointed in him? “What are you working on?”

Louis’s eyes scan over the words he’s written down, his face suddenly going blank. He is beginning to rethink everything he’s already said. This always happens. He gets going and about five minutes later he deletes it all. He doesn’t really know why. He just can’t seem to stick with the ideas. Maybe it’s because the things he writes about are personal — the kinds of things he would only tell himself. And maybe that’s why he always replaces what he writes with whatever the true prompt is, instead of what he’s thought up.

With two clicks of his mouse and one of a button, he deletes it all and looks back at Liam. “Nothing, now.”

He stands up straight and nods to the folder on the table. “Half of that’s yours.”

“Pizza menu?” Louis asks.

Liam doesn’t seem to get his joke because he just rolls his beautiful, warm, brown eyes and says, “You’ve had too much to drink.”

Louis shrugs. “Just the one bottle.”

“Sleep,” Liam demands. “If by some miracle you haven’t forgotten already, you have an exam tomorrow morning.” He leaves the folder as he steps out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

Louis rolls his eyes and mimics Liam’s mother-like tone. “If by some miracle you haven’t already forgotten, you have an exam tomorrow morning.” He runs a hand over his face and lets out a shaky exhale as he starts to really feel the effects of the alcohol. His thoughts go a bit hazy, so he shakes his head swiftly to clear it.

Turning back to his computer, he gives his new essay a better title. One that doesn’t connect to him so much as it connects to what his professor expects of him. He doesn’t really know why he even bothers writing what he thinks if he’s just going to erase it all anyways. It doubles the time he would spend staring at this godforsaken computer, and he always ends up getting a lower grade than his original piece probably deserves. And yet, he starts off with the hardships his mind rolls through every minute of every day.

So he puts in his earbuds and turns on his music, letting the calming voice of the man he admires greatly to fill his head. He’s listened to both albums more than one hundred times since they were released and yet every single time, the lyrics and melody amaze him. They make him feel the same way from the moment the song starts all the way to the end. And he welcomes that feeling with open arms, seeing as it’s the only one he ever does feel. Everything else is just a blur of pain and fucked up memories that he wishes he could forget.

There is also something about his voice that causes his heart to flutter as if a butterfly was trapped in there. It was deep, yet neutral; raspy, yet melodious; flat, yet full of a deep pain. The way one voice can sound like one hundred different ones fascinates Louis to the point where he just can’t get enough of the sound. It’s almost like a drug — he’s addicted to it. And he’s not ashamed to admit it.

He hums along to the song, once again turning back to his essay. He writes down a few things, scoffing at himself. It’s almost funny how different they are from what he actually believes. It’s not like he’s writing about how awful the idea of being gay is, but he doesn’t agree with most of everything. He could probably finish an entire book on the importance of liberality in about three days in he wanted to, but he doesn’t. Besides, his professor is obsessed with the idea of thinking one way. She makes that evidently clear every time she brings up the man known as Martin Luther King, Jr.

Louis is honestly tempted to give her a good punch to the mouth.

However, he restrains himself. If he ever wants to get out onto the road like he’s always wanted to, he needs to graduate from the hell-hole they call Harmoore Community College. There is just one year left. He can make it, right?

He inhales sharply when he hears the song change, the familiar piano melody following close behind. He’s always loved this song from the second he first heard it. It’s the one song in the entire album that makes him believe there’s a possibility that not all hope is lost. It’s also one of the only two songs from both albums that can make him cry.

“And I can’t take it back — I can’t unpack the baggage you left,” he sings softly.

That line is always the one that gets the tears flowing. Especially when he’s half out of his mind from the alcohol.

Louis lets out a quiet breath and runs a hand through his spiky brown hair. _Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry._ He chants this in his head like it’s some fucking mantra. It never seems to work, really, but there’s no harm in trying, right?

When a single tear rolls down his cheek, he shuts his computer and leans his head back against the wall. He sniffles softly, clenching his eyes shut. He hugs his knees to his chest as the memories start flooding back.

_“You’re worthless! You can’t do anything!”_

_“Filthy fag! You deserve to die!”_

_“Nobody wants you. Might as well go kill yourself.”_

Louis lets out a small sob, pressing his forehead to the space between his knees. He exhales sharply and clenches his hands into fists, feeling the echoes of the burns. On his worst days, he can still picture the way they got there.

But he sighs contentedly as that familiar feeling of peace washes over him at the sound of his voice. He sighs contentedly at the soft piano in the background. And he sighs contentedly as the headache that has been threatening to make his head pound fades away, along with all the voices.


	3. Harry - Maybe

Depression.

That’s what they call it. That’s what they call this never-ending feeling of dread. That’s what they call his episodes when he kind of just wants to give up. And that’s what they call the reason he refuses to write anymore.

“He’s just depressed,” they tell each other in hushed tones that aren’t nearly hushed enough. “He’ll get over it. You’ll have a song by next week.”

And yet, there’s never another song. It’s gotten to the point where he’s tried time and time again to back out of his contract, only to time and time again be rejected. And it’s gotten to the point where his house is a mess, he drinks all hours of the day, and when he’s not drunk, he’s high. Whether it be cocaine or mushrooms, he’s always high.

And it’s starting to become kind of a problem.

His friends are beginning to notice his sudden changes in personality when he takes a few days off from the drugs to live for a moment. He goes from happy-go-lucky to a total dick at the drop of a hat. On his worst days, sometimes he’ll even yell. Sometimes at them, sometimes at himself. But he always yells.

He’s sure they know about the scars too. He tries to hide them with long shirts and a shit-ton of concealer, but he’ll slip up every now and then. It’s just in his nature to do so.

Every day, he goes home with a different guy or girl to just let go — to forget about his problems. He knows that hiding his true feelings with sex isn’t healthy, but he’s never been one for good mental health habits. It’s just too hard to try and talk about it. Even with the therapist his crew made him hire, he hides stuff. He hides the unspoken whispers of what he really does once a month in his hotel bathroom with the kitchen knife that sits in a drawer a few doors away. And he definitely hides the fact that he wishes there was someone — anyone — out there in the world that would actually care about him. But nobody cares about the guy that writes the music. They only care about the music itself.

So that brings us here, to a bland hotel room, where he’s snorting a mountain of cocaine, two girls on either side of him and his closest friends on the couch across the room.

“Woah, woah, slow down, mate,” Niall says with a light chuckle. “You’ll be out before the night’s even started.”

Harry leans back against the couch, wrapping one arm around each girls’ shoulders. He studies Niall with concentration, his brow furrowed. Niall’s always been the kind of guy to set him straight. He’s always really been the ‘mom’ of the group. But after years of asking and pleading pathetically, he finally joined the other two for a night out of fun.

“Lighten up, Nialler,” Zayn commands from his spot beside the Irishman where he’s smoking a cigarette. “You agreed to come with us for once, so you’re sure as hell going to have some fun.”

Niall — looking incredible uncomfortable — lets out an annoyed grunt and sinks further into the leather couch. “Remind me again why I said yes?”

“Because you have nothing better to do,” Harry answers simply, swirling around the dark liquid that sits in the glass in his hand. “And nobody can say no to a night out with Harry Styles.”

Zayn smirks, while Niall rolls his eyes and takes a long sip of his drink. Harry’s pretty sure it’s water.

The girl on his right side — Jenny, maybe? — leans forward and bites lightly on his ear. All of them are drunk out of their minds — minus Niall — which is why Harry isn’t at all surprised when she starts trailing a hand up his leg. The other girl seems to get the memo and runs her hand down his face until she reaches his jaw. With a gentle tug, she turns his head to face her and plants a slow and sensual kiss right onto his lips.

Harry’s honestly tempted to groan. Not out of pleasure, but out of annoyance. He really isn’t in the mood for a threesome tonight.

But he keeps kissing the girl and lets the other one keep getting her hand closer and closer to his crotch, because he knows anything is better than being alone with his thoughts. So he places his whiskey on the table beside the couch, gestures for the boys to leave — which they do without a second thought — and welcomes the feelings he gets with no trouble at all.

You’d think that after all these years of sex, drugs, and rock-and-roll he’d slow down at least once in a while to find a nice guy or girl that was maybe willing to be in a relationship with a singer that has a whole lot of problems that only he himself knew about. But no. He hasn’t had a real boyfriend or girlfriend in about five years. Sad, yes, but so is most of his life.

He hasn’t even really thought about a relationship with someone since Nick. Man, did that guy fuck him up. He’s mostly the reason why Harry’s high all the time. Because he wants to forget the son of a bitch that ruined his life.

But now that he’s thinking about it...

 _No,_ he tells himself. _They’d never allow it._

Turns out that his entire crew is just a bunch of homophobic junkies that somehow made it into the music industry without being mauled by the entire world of David Bowie fans. And Harry — being the idiotic nineteen year old he had been — signed the contract while managing to skip over the entire ‘Who You Can’t Date’ section. That section included: Taylor Swift, anybody twice his age, and a man.

And yet, here he is, enjoying the company of both men and women as much as the next guy. It’s not like he’d come out to the world or anything — his crew is pissed enough with the thought of him being bisexual — but that doesn't mean he can’t fuck both genders whenever he wants to. He is Harry Styles, after all.

But maybe settling down isn’t such a bad idea. He is twenty-two now. Perhaps it’s time for a change of scenery.

After the girls leave and Harry is still totally out of it from the drugs and the alcohol, he sprawls out on the couch and sighs. Sure, he feels good.

But not good enough.

He reaches for the card beside the small mound of white powder on the table. Using the small square, he arranges the fine substance in a few straight lines and leans forward to inhale it—

He stops suddenly, his face only a few inches from the table. He sits up straight, frowning.

“Maybe...” he murmurs to himself. “Just maybe.”


	4. Louis - Personal Phone Number

Louis’s always hated school. From the second he walked into the Kindergarten classroom to this very moment, speeding through his exam, he’s hated it. There isn’t really a valid reason, apart from the fact that it’s just plain old boring. He knows the answer to every question any of his professors ask and yet, he’s still managed to let his grades drop to a staggeringly low rate.

It’s not his fault, really. It’s not anybody’s fault. It’s just the way the world has set life up for him. Start out his last year in college failing and go out in a blaze of glory. That’s how every school year began.

So is he at all surprised when he gets his exam results back two weeks later with a big fat ‘C-’ sitting on the paper in red pen?

No, he is not.

He despises that red pen. It seems as if every teacher in the entire history of the world has used a red pen to grade their students’ papers. It’s the red pen you saw in every television show and movie. And it’s the red pen that haunts his less traumatizing nightmares. Why can’t someone use a different color for once? Like blue. Or purple. Or even neon green. Just be a bit creative, yeah?

“What’s on your mind?” Liam asks while staring down at his computer.

“Nothing,” Louis grumbles before taking a rather angry bite out of his croissant. Something feels off about the day and it pisses him off that he can’t pinpoint just what it is.

“Mhm,” Liam hums, barely paying his friend any attention. “Elaborate for me, will you?”

“I’m failing English,” Louis huffs.

Liam doesn’t even so much as glance at him. “But you’re always failing. Why is this time any different?”

“I don’t know,” the blue-eyed boy says with a shrug of his shoulders. “It just is.”

“Descriptive,” Liam scoffs.

“Oh, piss off, Payno.” Louis takes another bite of his chocolate-filled pastry, glancing around the café. It’s quiet, which he quite enjoys. But then again, he’s always up for some commotion to occupy his thoughts.

As if the universe read his mind, a tall man strolls in about five seconds later. He’s flanked by a large man in a suit and sunglasses that looks like anybody’s typical security detail. The only reason this catches Louis’s eye at all is because two girls from the table behind him instantly start whispering. So, his head pops up and his jaw immediately drops.

The man is tall, easily about six feet. He’s got a nice bone structure — high cheekbones and strong jaw — and from what Louis could tell, a pretty fit body. He’s wearing a large orange sweater and a pair of black pants, as well as his usual array of rings. His finger nails are painted yellow and blue, arranged in an interesting pattern. A pair of blue aviators hide his eyes, but Louis’s seen enough photos to know the exact color they are. Like a meadow in the summertime, only about six thousand times prettier. He holds himself high and mighty, as if he knows exactly what the people around him think when they see him.

_Amazing._

_Talented._

_Sexy._

Louis knows every adjective ever used to describe this man is accurate, but he also knows there’s quite a lot he _doesn’t_ know about him. And he intends to find out.

He clears his throat and turns to Liam. “I, uhm— napkins.” He stands up quickly and heads over to the counter where the man so happens to conveniently be ordering something. Louis ignores the glance he gets from him and grabs a few napkins from the stand. He doesn’t actually need them — they’re just about the least conspicuous excuse he could’ve made up to get himself closer.

When he’s sure the man isn’t looking, he glances at him, only to melt into a fucking puddle at his feet. He was unbearably hot.

He’s about to say something but immediately shuts up when the two girls from the table behind him walk up to the man.

“Hi, Harry!” the say in terrifying unison. “Can we get a picture with you?”

Harry turns to face him, lowering his glasses and revealing those beautiful green eyes Louis knows so well. He gives a smile, which makes Louis frown. He knows that smile — he sees it every time he practices his own in the mirror. It’s the kind of smile people use to mask pain and trauma.

It’s a _fake_ smile.

“Of course,” Harry says with a small chuckle. He gathers in close with one arm around each girl and grins at the camera with unnerving ease. There’s a soft giggle and a flash and in about two seconds, he’s pulling away and waving goodbye.

Everything about the look on his face says he’s fine — the smile, the way he holds himself — but then there’s also those little things that show that he’s _not_ , in fact, fine. Whether it be that his eyes are dark and flat as if there’s no soul behind them or that the second he thinks no one is looking his smile vanishes, he’s not fine.

He must sense Louis gaping at him, because he turns his head to look at him. Something sparks in his gorgeous green eyes, but whatever it was is gone just as quickly. He simply smirks and says, “Would you like a picture too?”

Louis gulps nervously and somehow manages to put together a coherent sentence. “Uh, no, thank you.”

“Why thank me?” Harry asks with a frown. “It was just a question.”

Louis freezes at the man’s insightfulness. He's never thought about that. Why _do_ people thank other people when asked a simple question?

He laughs incredulously. “I believe you’ve just given me the topic of my next Philosophy essay.”

Harry laughs his perfect laugh, the noise music to Louis’s ears. He’s heard that laugh in interviews before, but there was something about hearing it in person that was so much better.

“I’m, uh, Louis, by the way,” he says. “Louis Tomlinson.”

“Harry Styles,” the other offers.

“Erm, I know,” Louis says with a soft chuckle.

Harry smirks once more. “Fan, are you?”

“I suppose...” Louis places the napkins he’s gathered down onto the counter and looks back up at Harry. “If that’s the technical term, then yes.”

“What’s your favorite song?” Harry asks simply, neither of them noticing when the barista puts his coffee and a small bag down onto the counter. “Out of the both albums.”

“How much time do you have?” Louis jokes, cracking a smile when Harry does the same.

“So you like them all then?”

 _Well, Falling is the only thing in the entire world that can make me feel anything anymore, so, no, I don't like them all, I just like the one._ “Yeah, I like them all.”

“Good,” Harry says. “It’s nice to meet someone with taste.”

Louis scoffs and glances back at his table where Liam is still typing out what is probably his next great breakthrough. He hasn’t seemed to have noticed Louis’s absence yet.

He looks back to see Harry looking at his guard, who’s tapping his wrist like he’s gesturing to a non-existent watch. Harry nods and turns back to Louis. “It was lovely to meet you, but it seems as if I’m needed elsewhere.”

Louis doesn’t know why, but his heart does this thing that feels suspiciously like sinking. “Oh.”

“I hope I’m not over-stepping, but, uh...” Harry reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a card, which he places in Louis’s hand. “Just in case.” He starts walking away. He makes it all the way to the door before he turns back to wink at Louis and then steps out of the restaurant.

Louis still has yet to look down at what is actually really written on the card, but when he does, everything goes a bit hazy. He reads it about twenty times to make sure he got it right the first time. A smile tugs at his lips and in no time at all, he’s grinning.

He reads it one last time, just for good measure.

_‘Harry Styles - Personal Phone Number.’_


	5. Harry - No Girl

As Harry makes his way out of the café, he can’t help but look back at the man that is staring at him with a bewildered expression. There is something about him. Something that Harry just can’t put his finger on. He isn’t like most people, that’s for sure.

But he leaves the building, the memory of those soft blue eyes burned into his mind. He can’t figure out what color they are. They’re light blue, but with a hint of literally every color that’s ever existed. They’re mesmerizing. Like a kaleidoscope. Maybe that’s why he gave the man — well, Louis — his personal number.

Forcing himself to forget about it for the time being, Harry climbs into the back of the black SUV that is sitting there, waiting for him. It’s an almost overwhelmingly large car with the way the back seat seems to stretch almost as far as a limousine’s does. Obviously it doesn’t, but it _feels_ like it.

Maybe it’s like a metaphor that Harry’s mind has made up. Like the impending length of the car represents all the trauma he has, while he — sitting alone in the back — represents the few good memories he has. Yeah, that’s it.

But then again, it might just be Harry’s drug-deprived head making him think weird things. That’s probably why he immediately turns to the plastic bag that is filled almost to the brim with that goddamned white powder sitting next to him. His driver meets his gaze through the rear view mirror and gives him a look of absolute disgust. But Harry doesn’t care. In fact, he gives the look right back and does his thing.

He knows his driver — and bodyguard — is disappointed in him. Everybody is. But it pisses him off when they’re all openly annoyed by it. It’s his life — his body — he can do whatever the fuck he wants with it. If that means getting high in the back of a car that’s supposed to be taking him to his house where his sister and best friends are waiting for him, then so be it.

The car comes to a stop just as Harry starts to feel that familiar burn in his body. He shakes his head to get it going and takes a large sip from the water bottle sitting in the cup holder in front of him. And as the door of his side of the car opens, he steps out onto the asphalt.

*******

“You alright, Harry?” Zayn asks, rolling his shoulders. “You keep checking your phone every five goddamned minutes.”

Harry isn’t about to tell him that he’s waiting for this extremely hot guy to text him. Absolutely not. “Fine.”

Zayn gives him a skeptical look, but doesn’t push it.

However, Niall doesn’t seem to understand the tension in the room. So — naturally — he asks, “So who’s the girl?”

Harry has yet to tell anybody — besides his crew (who found out by accident) — the truth about his sexuality. He doesn’t actually know why. It’s not like they’re bi-phobic or anything. It’s just that he doesn’t know _how_. He doesn’t know how to explain something like that to people. Especially people he rarely talks to about real stuff. Like what’s actually going on in his head that they notice but never address. That’s what his therapist is for.

“There’s no girl,” he says, not actually lying.

"C'mon, 'arry, who is it?" Niall asks again, smirking.

“I said there’s no girl!” Harry snaps, his voice rising in volume. When he sees the way Niall flinches at his angry tone, he takes a deep breath to calm himself. “There’s no girl. Alright? I just... I’m expecting a message and I haven’t gotten it yet.”

Niall nods minutely, his once smiling face now unreadable. He clears his throat. “Uhm, I’m going to the loo. I’ll be right back.” He stands up and quickly leaves the room. Almost too quickly.

Harry sighs and runs a hand over his face. “I should go apologize, right?”

Without looking up from her phone, Gemma says, “Absolutely.”

“Alright.” He stands up. “If I’m not back in ten minutes, assume he’s murdered me.” He makes his way down the hallway until he reaches the door to the bathroom. Taking a deep breath, he knocks on the door and calls, “Niall? Niall, you in there?”

There’s a soft sniffle and then a heavily accented voice that says, “No.”

Harry sighs and presses his ear to the door. “I’m sorry, Nialler. I didn’t mean to snap at you like that.”

“It’s fine,” comes the reply.

“No, it’s not,” Harry argues. “You were asking an honest question and I bitched at you. That’s not cool. It’s not what friends do.”

Niall doesn’t respond, so Harry continues.

“Uhm, listen. There’s, uh, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you, Niall. Something... Something important. Something you ought to know. I’ve held off on telling you ‘cause I was... well, I was scared. I don’t know how you’re going to react. But I guess— I guess I’ll tell you anyways.” He inhales deeply and tells him the truth. “It’s not a girl. It’s... It’s a guy.”

There’s a few moments of silence, but then — to Harry’s surprise — Niall laughs. Like, genuinely laughs. “Of course it’s a guy. Did you seriously think I didn’t know?” The door opens, causing Harry to almost fall, seeing as he’s been practically putting all his weight up against it. When he straightens up, he’s met with kind blue eyes that make his chest constrict painfully. This man is too amazing for someone like him.

“I’ve known for a while,” Niall says, leaning against the door frame. “You’re quite obvious, always walking in the room with a limp.”

Harry’s eyes go wide and he feels his face burn with embarrassment. “Keep your voice down, for fuck’s sake! The others don’t know.”

Niall puts his hands up in defense and smirks. “So who’s the lucky guy then?”

Harry shrugs. “He hasn’t texted me yet. I’m waiting for him to say something, but he just won’t.”

“Maybe you scared him away with your undeniable top energy,” Niall says sarcastically.

Harry rolls his eyes and checks his phone again, only to be disappointed. “It’s been three hours already.”

“Already?!” Niall asks with obviously fake panic. “Oh, he’ll never call you now! Might as well give up and find someone new.”

Harry laughs softly at his friend’s adorably goofy personality and throws an arm around him. “You’re right. Who do you think would have me?”

“Oh, definitely Zayn,” Niall says. “He’s been eying you for months.”

Harry grins. “Zayn it is then.” He starts down the hallway, Niall on his arm. “Zayn, you better get ready ‘cause I’m gonna fuck you!”


	6. Louis - Just In Case

Louis doesn’t really know why he hasn’t texted Harry yet. This extremely hot guy gave him his personal phone number and he hasn’t even thought about it. But why hasn’t he? He’s been totally obsessed with Harry since Day One and he has the option to be friends — or maybe even more — and he’s just blowing it off like it’s nothing? What the hell is wrong with him?

Maybe it’s because he has no idea what the fuck to say. How on Earth are you supposed to start a conversation with the hottest man on the planet? It just doesn’t seem possible.

Harry had said “Just in case” when he gave Louis his number. Now those three little words swirl about his mind like fish in an aquarium. They just keep echoing and echoing, bouncing off the walls of his skull.

_Just in case... Just in case... Just in case..._

Just in case. Just in case of what? Just in case he can’t get off in the middle of the night and needs someone to do it for him without actually doing it for him? Or just in case he’s trapped in his own head and needs somebody to have a real fucking conversation with?

WHICH ONE IS IT?

Well, there is also the possibility that it could be both. Yeah, that’s probably it.

So if you ever want to know what he’s doing awake at midnight, staring up at the ceiling of his room, then you know the answer: he can’t figure out whether or not to text this son of a bitch.

Maybe he should make a pros and cons list. That always seems to work.

Pro: maybe Harry and he could be friends.

Con: he’d be friends with a guy that attracts cameras everywhere he goes.

Pro: he’d have someone else to talk to other than himself.

Con: Harry didn’t seem like the talking type.

Pro: maybe he’d have something else to do other than study, get drunk, and wrote poetry that he never keeps.

Con: Harry’s not actually gay, is he?

Louis groans loudly and digs the heels of his hands into his closed eyes. He then throws his hands down, reaches over to his nightstand, and picks up his phone. Before he can talk himself out of it, he types out a quick message.

 **Me  
00:05**  
hi

He has to wait a few moments for a response, sitting in the dark and tapping a finger lightly against his phone case. His heart flutters with excitement when he feels it buzz in his hand.

 **Harry  
00:08**  
Sorry, who is this?

Louis mentally face-palms. Of course he needed to include his name. Harry probably thinks he’s some sort of stalker.

 **Me  
00:08**  
haha, sorry, probably should’ve told you. it’s Louis. from the café?

 **Harry  
00:09**  
Finally. Took you long enough. I’ve been waiting for you to text me all day

Louis raises an eyebrow. Really? He’s been waiting?

 **Me  
00:10**  
well, i’m here now

 **Harry  
00:10**  
And thank God you are. I don’t think I could stand another moment alone with myself

Louis frowns at that. What did he mean? That he didn’t like himself?

He’s confused, but doesn’t question further.

 **Me  
00:10**  
so why’d you give me your number in the first place?

 **Harry  
00:11**  
I don’t really know. I guess you seemed fun

Louis scoffs softly to himself.

 **Me  
00:11**  
fun? me? that’s a first

 **Harry  
00:12**  
I’m sure that’s not true

 **Me  
00:12**  
you’d be surprised

 **Harry  
00:13**  
Hey, what can I change your name to in my phone? ‘Louis’ is just a bit boring

 **Me  
00:13**  
wow. thank you for your kind words considering my birth name

 **Harry  
00:14**  
You know that’s not what I meant

 **Me  
00:15**  
do i? i barely even know you, remember? everything you say could very well be a lie and i wouldn’t know, because i don’t even have the slightest idea what your favorite color is!

Louis panics when Harry doesn’t respond. He keeps checking his phone every minute, even though it doesn’t buzz. His heart is beating rapidly, all his nerves heightened from how scared he is. He probably scared Harry away with that little spout of his. Oh, he’s such an idiot.

It’s about an hour before he finally feels that familiar jolt from his phone.

 **Harry  
01:03**  
Blue

 **Me  
01:03**  
excuse me?

 **Harry  
01:04**  
You said you haven’t the slightest idea what my favorite color is. So, I told you. It’s blue

Louis feels as his heart skips a beat before falling back into its usual rhythm. His breathing is even once more and his head is no longer pounding from anxiety.

 **Me  
01:05**  
oh. good to know

 **Harry  
01:05**  
You’re not going to tell me what yours is?

 **Me  
01:05**  
oh, ha. right  
i’ve always liked green

He’s always liked green because it reminds him of the green sweater Fizzy used to wear. He’s always liked green because it reminds him of the green pancakes his mother would make on St. Patrick’s Day. He’s always liked green because it’s the color of Harry’s eyes.

 **Harry  
01:06**  
Interesting choice

 **Me  
01:06**  
don’t flatter yourself, Styles

 **Harry  
01:06**  
Tomlinson, was it?

 **Me  
01:06**  
yep

 **Harry  
01:07**  
Where are you from, Tomlinson?

 **Me  
01:07**  
how do i know you won’t murder me in my sleep if i tell you?

 **Harry  
01:08**  
I’m not asking for your address, I’m asking where you grew up. Gosh, there’s no need to over exaggerate

Louis worries at his bottom lip, his mind turning faster than the spokes on a moving bicycle wheel. He debates about telling Harry the truth before he settles on just one word.

 **Me**  
01:09  
Doncaster


	7. Harry - Hang Up

Harry runs a hand through his hair as he lets the warm water trickle down his body. He closes his eyes and lets himself imagine it’s the rain that’s pouring down, and not just a simple shower. He lets himself imagine that he’s a normal guy in a normal world who’s allowed to like whoever the fuck he wants. He lets himself imagine that he’s fr—

“Styles!” a voice calls from outside the bathroom. “Your interview is in twenty minutes!”

Harry sighs and calls back, “Coming!” He turns around and shuts off the water, instantly feeling that familiar cold feeling wash over him. Moving back the glass door, he steps out onto the steam-soaked floor and grabs the towel hanging a few steps away. He uses that towel to dry himself and his hair off, and then wraps it around his waist.

Harry steps up to the mirror, fluffing up his hair with his hands. He glances at the exposed underside of his forearms, freezing when he sees all the marks that he’s built up over the years. He’s up to twenty-five now. Twenty-six is in about a week.

He lowers his arms and looks down at them. Flexing one arm, he runs the fingers from his opposite hand over the soft, raised skin of the marks. Every touch pulls deep memories he’d buried years ago right back to the front of his mind, causing him to snatch his hand back. And just like that, the memories are gone just as quick as they’d come.

*******

“So, Harry,” Zayn muses before taking a long and slow drag from his cigarette. “What were you talking to Niall about the other day?”

Harry freezes. He glances at his blonde-haired friend, who’s staring off into the distance, pretending to not be listening. Curse that guy for being born looked so innocent and perfect.

Harry clears his throat and says, “It was nothing. I just apologized and we both went on our merry ways. Simple.”

Zayn nods his perfectly chiseled head in agreement, although he doesn’t look very convinced. So, naturally, Harry shoots him a withering glare that shuts him right up.

“How’s your new girlfriend?” Niall asks after quite a few moments of awkward silence. He gives Harry a look that says that he's _really_ talking about the man that caused Harry to come out to him. Yeah, _that_ guy.

Harry gulps nervously. “Uhm, she’s good. I mean, I think so. We’ve only had, like, one conversation.”

“Is she hot?” Zayn questions through a mouthful of French fries.

Harry smirks as the memory of those beautiful blue eyes flash through his head. “Yes. She’s _very_ hot.” He twirls his fork between his fingers as he pictures Louis as he was in the café — tight body framed by slim clothing, angular, yet beautiful, face, and totally, absolutely, gorgeous ass practically _begging_ to be fucked right into the mattress.

“Oh, great,” Niall says with an eye roll. “Look what you’ve done, Zayn. You got him daydreaming about fucking her.”

Zayn snorts out a laugh at Niall’s statement.

Harry — on the other hand — flips Niall the bird and goes right back to imagining Louis — what it would be like to kiss him.

*******

Harry startles awake to the sound of his phone ringing. He sits up straight and snatches it off the coffee table in front of him, frowning at the name written on the screen. But he answers it anyways, wanting to see what this is about.

“Louis?” he asks, yawning loudly. “Why are you calling me? I was asleep.”

“Harry, it’s the middle of the day,” Louis scoffs. “It’s _your_ fault for falling asleep.”

Harry glances at the clock to see that Louis is right. He runs a hand down the side of his face and sighs. “Ah, damn. I’m pretty sure I missed a meeting.”

“Then why the hell are you asleep?” Louis asks with a small chuckle.

Harry isn’t about to tell Louis that the real reason he fell asleep is because he’s been awake all week, trying to escape the nightmares and he’d finally collapsed on the couch out of exhaustion. He should honestly thank Louis for wrenching him away from the dark memories. “I hadn’t noticed, I guess. Why are you calling me, anyway?”

“Um...” Louis’s voice sounded almost uneasy. So Harry sat up farther. “I just... I...”

“What is it, Lou?” Harry asks, finding himself unnaturally concerned.

“I...” Louis inhales tremulously. “Never mind. It’s nothing. This was a stupid idea.”

“Wait, no, Louis, what did you want to tell me?” Harry asks, a bit panicked.

“I said it’s nothing!” Louis snaps. “I gotta go. Goodbye, Harry.”

Harry gapes at the sound of the dial tone, his heart pounding in his ears. Why the hell is Louis acting so weird? He wanted to tell Harry something, that’s for sure. But he’d chickened out.

He stares blankly at the dark screen, his mind working quickly to try and figure out what the fuck just happened. Unfortunately, he can’t figure anything out.

Something is wrong with Louis. Something Harry wants to figure out. Louis wants to tell him _something_. Something important.

And Harry needs to know what.


	8. Louis - Nightmare

Louis still doesn’t really know why he called Harry. It’s not like they’re friends. They met once at a café and Louis _somehow_ managed to get his number. Not only had he called Harry, but he’d also hung up at the first sign of having to be social.

What a chicken.

It’s not the he’s not willing to have a conversation, but when that conversation starts to get to the more personal topics—for example, why he has no money and why he used to come home covered in bruises—he can’t help but fall back into that old habit of putting up the walls and hiding behind them. He’s scared—he knows that—but sometimes he just can’t help it. He was taught to keep to himself, to hide, so that’s exactly what he’s going to do.

“Louis?” A hand waves in front of his face. “You in there?”

Louis blinks a few times, turning to look at Liam with a frown on his face. “What is it?”

“You were spacing out again,” Liam mumbles, turning back to his open laptop to continue working on his essay. “Figured you needed a wake up call.”

Louis lets out a sigh and picks slowly at his pizza. He’s afraid he’s scared Harry away by hanging up like he did. It’s his fault for bringing up the topic in the first place, and yet he couldn’t even get a few words out to communicate. Harry probably thinks he’s crazy.

“What’s wrong with you?” Liam asks. “You love pizza, and yet you haven’t eaten anything. What’s going on in that thick skull of yours?”

“Nothing,” Louis murmurs. “It’s nothing.”

“It doesn’t _look_ like nothing,” Liam remarks. “You’ve been quiet all week. What happened?”

“I told you that it’s nothing!” Louis cries, slamming his fist down on the table. He sees the way Liam flinches, but he doesn’t bother to fix it. “I’m fine! I’m always... f-fine.” He pushes away his plate and hops down from his seat, storming into his room. He slams the door behind him, feeling that familiar ache of fury settling over him.

_Calm down, Louis. Calm down._

He fists his own hair in his hands and clenches his eyes shut, muttering softly to himself. “D-Deep breaths, deep breaths, deep b-b-breaths. I’m c-calm, I’m calm, I-I’m calm—”

He startles at the knock at the door.

“Louis?” Liam. “Louis, are you alright?” The door handle rattles as he tries to force himself in. “Let me in, Louis.”

“N-No,” Louis pants. “I-I-I don’t need your h-help. I-I’m f... f-f...” He grunts in frustration as his voice fails him and he removes his hands from his hair.

“Take it slow, Louis,” Liam advises from behind the closed door. “Remember what they taught you. Deep breaths. Calming thoughts. You’re okay.”

Louis inhales shakily. “No. I-I can... c-ca... a-an’t.”

“Yes, you can,” Liam urges. “You’ve done this a million times before. Slow down.”

So, Louis breathes deeply and tries again. “S... S... Sl... T-Take it... sl-slow.”

“Good,” Liam praises. “Just breathe.”

“J-Just breathe,” Louis repeats, feeling himself slowly calm down. “Breathe.”

“That’s it, Lou.” After a few moments of content silence, Liam says, “Better?”

“Better,” Louis agrees, finally opening his eyes. He spins around to face the door, finding it open and a concerned Liam standing in the doorway. He gives his friend a knowing and sad look, but says nothing.

Liam exhales softly. “Get some sleep, Louis. You need it.” He closes the door, leaving Louis alone with nothing but a pile of books and the nefarious voices in his head.

*******

_“Louis, I’m home!”_

_Louis instantly freezes at the sound of keys in the door. His heart starts to pound in his ears, his breathing gradually getting heavier._

_“Where are you, babe?” Kace calls from the other room._

_Louis takes a deep breath before calling. “B-B-Bedroom!” His breath hitches at the sound of footsteps. But he stays standing, knowing cowering would only make the situation worse._

_The door opens, revealing Kace in all his ginger glory. His entire body is covered in tiny freckles the same color as his red hair. His eyes were a jade green that ran themselves up and down my body, examining my every feature._

_Without bothering to shut the door, he starts towards me, eying me with a hungry look. “You look nice today.”_

_“Th-Thank you,” Louis stutters, backing up away from him. As Kace kept coming closer, he kept stepping back._

_Panic set in when he hit the wall._

_Kace smirks as he looks Louis up and down, placing his hands on the wall on either side of his head._

_“S-S-Sorry, Kace,” Louis manages through harsh breathing. “Not today. I-I have work to do.”_

_“Oh, come on, Lou,” Kace whispers in his ear, pressing his body against him. “Work can wait.”_

_Louis clenches his eyes shut. “B-But, Kace, I have—”_

_“Shut up, you little shit.” Kace slams his hand around Louis’s neck, his eyes now full of anger instead of lust. He squeezes to the point where it’s uncomfortable and Louis can barely breathe, but he’s not actually hurting him. “You do as I say. And I say that I’m gonna fuck you. Got that?”_

_Louis nods frantically, desperately holding back tears._

_“Use your words, Louis,” Kace demands._

_“Yes,” he gasps._

_“Yes, what?” Kace questions._

_Louis inhales shakily and somehow manages to spit out the words without stuttering._

_“Yes, Daddy.”_

*******

Louis shoots up to a sitting position, groaning loudly when his head comes into contact with something hard. “Oh, _fuck_!” He opens his eyes to see Liam laying on the floor, clutching his forehead.

“For God’s sake, Lou!” he cries. “Why the fuck is your forehead so hard?”

“Sorry,” Louis mutters as Liam gets to his feet, both of them still holding their aching heads. “What are you even doing in here?”

“You were, um...” Liam clears his throat. “You were having another nightmare. I came in here to wake you up.”

“Oh,” Louis murmurs softly.

Liam looks at him sadly. “Same one?”

Louis shakes his head. “No. Th-This one was about... h-him.” His breathing starts to quicken.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Liam grabs his shoulders and looks him in the eyes. “Louis, listen to me. He’s gone, okay? He’s not here. He can’t hurt you anymore. You’re safe here.”

Louis nods and gives his friend a small smile—just a quirk of his lips. “Thank you, Liam. You’re a... good friend.”

Liam returns the smile and stands up. “Just... try to sleep. I can’t promise it’ll help, but... just try.” He leaves the room.

Louis stares at the closed door and sighs. He reaches over for his phone to check it for any notifications. He frowns when he sees that there is one and clicks on it. But his eyes only widen when he sees what it says.

_‘Harry Styles Has a Girlfriend?’_


	9. Harry - Headache

Harry has a headache. Harry has a fucking headache that he can’t get rid of. And he has no fucking idea why.

The thing is, Harry never gets headaches. His head never hurts. He’s never sick—well, not physically, anyway. _Mentally_ is a whole other story.

But his point is that headaches are not a normal thing, and yet, he has one. So that’s why he’s sitting cross-legged on his hotel room bed, searching up the best ways to get rid of a headache.

_1\. Take a painkiller._

“Gee, can’t believe I didn’t think of that,” he mumbles sarcastically to himself and continues scrolling.

_2\. If having light sensitivity, turn down the brightness on your device or place yourself in a dark room._

He blinks a few times and stares down at his phone. After an eternity of unmoving silence, he turns down the brightness on his phone and dims the lights in the room.

_3\. If wearing a hat, take off hat to relieve pressure on head._

He runs a hand through his free hair, rolls his eyes, and continues.

_4\. Sometimes, cold or hot packs can help relieve pain._

He looks up at the door of the room, decides the icebox is too far away, and scrolls a bit more.

_5\. Avoid alcoholic beverages._

“Blah, blah, blah,” Harry grumbles. He puts his phone to sleep and tosses it back onto his nightstand, stomping out of his room. A stomp is supposed to be an angry walk. It’s hard to walk in anger when you’re wearing giant, fluffy slippers.

Zayn is sleeping soundly on the couch, a blanket pulled up to his chin. Niall is nowhere to be found, meaning he’s probably snoring away in his room.

Harry marches up to the minibar, pulling out a small bottle of vodka. He pops it open and takes a swig, down the whole thing in one sip. He cringes at the burn, but lets out a breath and chucks the empty bottle. He grabs a box of cookies from the cabinet and heads back to his room, already knowing sleep was a long time coming.

*******

_“You’re dead, you little fag.”_

_Harry smirks. “You’re gonna have to catch me first.” At that, he sprints out of the room, making it all the way to the door before he feels an iron-like grip clamp onto his forearm. He’s forced to turn around and is met with harsh blue eyes._

_“I’m going to fucking kill you.”_

*******

Harry sits up bolt right, his head pounding in time with his heart. He scrambles for the bottle of pills he always keeps beside his bed, plopping four into his hand. He shoves them all into his mouth, swallowing them with the glass of water on the table. He takes a deep breath, calming himself.

He startles at a knock on the door. “Harry? It’s Zayn.”

Harry tells him it’s okay to come in, so he does.

Zayn opens the door, his eyes full of concern. “I heard crying. Came to make sure you were alright.”

Harry subconsciously reaches up to his eye, not at all surprised when his fingers come away wet. Great. He’d been crying in his sleep. “Uh, right. Uhm, it was nothing.”

“The nightmares are back?” Zayn guesses.

Knowing he can’t hide anything from one of his best friends, Harry nods solemnly and looks down at his lap.

“Have you tried talking to someone about them?” Zayn suggests, leaning against the door jamb.

Harry quickly shakes his head. “No. They’re too...” He searches for the right words. “They bring me to a bad place, okay? A place I never want to go to again. They stay in my head, and in my head only.”

Zayn nods, his face sad. “Well, just... know that there’s someone out there with the same shit and problems as you. There’s someone out there that can put up with your big dick and even bigger ego. And that someone will be a better friend to you than Niall or I possibly can. And I know this probably sounds like really shitty advice for a time like this, but try to get some sleep. You have a show tomorrow and I don’t want to be yelled at again for keeping you up.”

Harry rolls his eyes and makes a shooing motion with his hand. “Fuck off, Malik.”

Zayn puts his hands up in defense and steps out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

Harry sighs at the now dark room, leaning back against the pillows. He relays Zayn’s words in his head.

_Know that there’s someone out there with the same shit and problems as you. There’s someone out there that can put up with your big dick and even bigger ego. And that someone will be a better friend to your than Niall or I possibly can._

He sighs softly to himself, silently hoping that Zayn is right. He hopes that there _is_ , in fact, someone out there that will tolerate him long enough to actually listen. He hopes that there is someone out there that actually understands. Understands the scars; the pain in his eyes; the nightmares; the way he jumps at the smallest touch.

He wants someone to comfort him when things get rough or when he’s had a long day and just needs a good massage. He wants someone to laugh at him when he does stupid shit and to laugh _at_ when _they_ do stupid shit. He wants someone that knows how fucking awful this horrific world can be and someone that will hold him tight when he wants to escape it. He wants someone to be both his best friend and his soulmate. Someone to kiss, laugh, and cry with.

Maybe he’ll find them, maybe not. Maybe he’ll live the rest of his life with an incredible guy or girl that will love him as much as he loves them, or maybe he won’t. Maybe his contract will finally expire and he’ll finally be able to come out to the world in all his rainbow glory, or maybe not. You never know.

Basically what he’s says is that he needs drugs in the form of a human being.


	10. Louis - Instagram

“Louis!” Liam calls from the other room.

“What?!” Louis shouts back. He hears more yelling from Liam’s side, but can’t make it out. “What?!” Again, he can’t understand his friend. “Liam, I can’t hear you.” There’s a loud grunt and a bit of stomping and soon the door to Louis’s room is thrown open, revealing a disheveled Liam.

“Who the fuck is Zayn Malik?” he asks.

Louis frowns. “What?”

Liam steps towards him, showing him a picture of a raven-haired man with a sharp bone structure and quite a few tattoos. The picture is of him in tight leather pants with no shirt on, exposing a lean—yet extremely toned—body. There’s a cigarette in his hand, smoke pooling out of his mouth. The picture is in black and white, which fits him surprisingly really well. “Who. The. _Fuck_. Is. Zayn. Malik?”

Louis scoffs. “You’ve never heard of him? He’s a world-renowned singer. He’s been on literally every talk show in the world. Everybody knows who he is.”

“He-He liked one of my Instagram pictures,” Liam says, pulling his phone away. “He _liked_ it, Louis!”

“Which one?” Louis asks. When Liam doesn’t answer, he frowns. “Liam, which picture did he like?”

Liam’s face burns bright red. With a shaky hand, he turns his phone to show Louis the picture. It’s one of him from the gym, his glasses and shirt discarded. He’s wearing a simple pair of black basketball shorts that are slung low on his hips and stands in front of a mirror. He’s in an undeniably hot pose, flexing his right arm, which is layered in a tattoo sleeve. His bottom lip is trapped in between his perfect, white teeth, his chest glistening with sweat. There’s a sexy smirk on his face that completely undermines the nerdy-ness of his personality that is usually there. He looked like some high school jock with his chiseled abs and pecs.

Louis bites back a laugh. “Uhm, Liam, I just... I don’t understand why you’re confused. Zayn is openly gay. That’s a... That’s a really hot picture. If he liked it, he thinks you’re hot. You should take it as a compliment.”

“But- But- But...” Liam struggles for the words. “But why is a celebrity liking _my_ pictures? I’m... I’m just a nerdy college student. I’m nothing special.”

Louis searches for a way to make Liam understand. “Listen, Payno. Zayn is notoriously known for being a fuck boy. He takes looks over personality. Toxic, but true. He wants you for your body. Don’t you get that?”

Liam sighs and finally puts his phone down. “I mean, I guess.” He looks down at his hands. “I just... I’ve never had a guy openly, you know, hit on me like that.”

“You should like a picture of his,” Louis tells him. “Let him know you’re interested.”

“But I’m not interested,” Liam argues. “No celebrity is gonna want me—”

“Liam,” Louis cuts in. “Like the fucking picture.”

He nods swiftly and double taps the picture, the both of them watching as the red heart pops up and disappears. “Now what?”

“Now you wait,” Louis says. “Wait for him to follow you, or message you. And then you’ll follow or message him back. Simple as that.”

Liam bites his lip and sighs. “Okay. Thanks, Lou.”

Louis nods. “Now go finish your goddamned English essay. I can’t have you failing on my watch.” He shoves Liam off the bed, snickering softly when he almost falls to the floor. He flips Louis off and walks out of the room.

The second Liam leaves, Louis goes right back to what he’d originally been doing: stalking Harry’s Instagram.

The favorite one he’s seen so far is a picture of Harry laying on a bed, soaked to the bone in water. The picture is in black and white, but the one thing meant to catch your eye is the rainbow paint smudged all over his face. He’s wearing a white blouse with the first five buttons open, revealing almost his entire chest. His pants are white, too. His nails are painted black. One hand is dragging down his bottom lip, while the other sits in his hair, gripping it tightly. To say he looks sexy would be a drastic understatement.

He sighs at the picture and fights back the urge to like it. If Harry knew he is stalking him on Instagram, he’d have a fit.

So, he instead puts his phone down and leans back into the pillows. He interlocks his hands behind his head, closes his eyes, and thinks.

He knows Harry is straight. He knows there’s no chance they could ever be together. He knows Harry’s a fuck boy that doesn’t have real relationships. And yet, _Harry_ is the one that gave Louis his personal phone number. _Harry_ is the one that insisted he call him, ‘just in case.’ _Harry_ is the one that spoke to him first at that coffee shop.

So, what? He’s closeted? Unlabeled? Shy? There’s gotta be a reason for this weird flip-flop thing that’s going on with him. And not to mention the rainbow paint on his face. Like, seriously, gay representation anyone?

With a huff, Louis grabs his phone and opens his messages. He’s about to type out a text to Harry when he receives one of his own.

 **Harry  
12:11**  
Are you a fan of dresses?

Louis freezes at the text, his mind trying to process the text. What the hell did that mean?

 **Me  
12:11**  
sorry, what?

 **Harry  
12:12**  
Dresses. Like on a woman. Do you like dresses?

 **Me  
12:12**  
i... guess

 **Harry  
12:12**  
Good to know

Louis frowns at this.

 **Me  
12:13**  
that’s it? that’s what you wanted to talk about? whether or not i like dresses?

 **Harry**  
12:13  
Yep. Now I better go. I got a photo shoot

Louis scoffs to himself. What a weird conversation topic. Does he like dresses?

With another long sigh, Louis puts down his phone and sits up. He hangs his head and looks down at his hands.

“One week,” he mutters to himself. “One week.”


	11. Harry - Louis Blue

“Harry!” Zayn calls, jogging into the room. “I think I just found _the_ hottest guy on Instagram.”

Harry raises an eyebrow as Zayn approaches him. “Really?”

“Yep,” Zayn nods.

“You know I can’t believe that without proof,” Harry smirks.

“Fine. I’ll give you proof.” Zayn pulls out his phone and shoves it in Harry’s face, showing him a picture of an _incredibly_ attractive guy with too many tattoos to count. He has a muscular body, strong arms framed my dark ink. His hair is a soft, chocolate brown. And he looks impossibly familiar.

Harry lets out a soft breath and subconsciously crosses his legs. “Huh. Would you look at that?”

“Sexy, right?” Zayn asks, moving his phone away. “His name’s...” He squints at the screen. “Liam Payne.”

_Liam Payne. Liam Payne. Liam Payne. Rings a bell._

“He’s cute,” Harry mutters, taking a tentative sip of his scolding hot tea. “You should fuck him.”

“How do I get him to know that I’m interested, though?” Zayn asks. “Should I follow him?”

“No!” Harry says quickly. “Like a picture first. See if he checks you out.”

Zayn nods. “Okay. Okay. I’ll like... this one.” He double-taps his phone, liking whatever photo he found. He chews on his bottom lip, beginning to pace slowly.

Harry chuckles. “You look like a high school girl waiting for her crush to text her back.”

Zayn rolls his eyes. “I do _not_ —” His phone dings. “Jesus Christ, he liked one of my posts.”

Harry laughs right into his mug. “I told you. Now follow him and have a goddamned conversation with the guy.”

Zayn nods again and starts towards his room. He walks into it, and there are a few moments of silence before he steps back out says, “Thanks, by the way.”

Harry gives him a thumbs-up and turns to his own phone.

*******

“Styles!” There’s a knock at the door. “You’ve got five minutes!”

At that, Harry throws open the door and comes face-to-face with his designer. “I’ve changed my mind.”

“What?!” he cries.

“I want a dress,” Harry demands. “And I want it in _this_ color.” He pulls his phone out and zooms in on a picture of Louis from his Instagram, blowing up the image of his beautiful blue eyes. He shows the stylist the picture, who shouts a list of profanities at him, gives in, and shuts the door in his face.

Harry smirks to himself and leans back against the door, admiring the picture he’d found. Louis looked really nice in it. _Really_ nice.

About twenty minutes later, one of the security men throws a soft blue dress and a black blazer into his room. He claps like a little girl, a large grin spread across his face. He picks up the dress, fingering the soft material between his thumb and forefinger. It’s a _really_ pretty dress.

He wastes no time in throwing it on, letting the multiple layers cascade around him. He put on the black blazer as well, studying himself in the mirror. He looks beautiful. And he loves it.

“Styles, you ready?!”

Harry smirks. “Oh, I’m ready.”

*******

**Me  
14:22**  
Check my Instagram

 **Louis  
14:22**  
what?

Harry rolls his eyes.

 **Me  
14:23**  
Just do it, Lou

 **Louis  
14:23**  
fine

Harry waits for a bit, laying flat on his stomach, his head and phone sitting on the pillow. He kicks his feet up in anticipation, scrolling up and down in wait.

 **Louis  
14:27**  
you didn’t

Harry giggles softly and replies quickly.

 **Me  
14:27**  
You bet your tight little ass I did. And it was fun

 **Louis  
14:28**  
you look really pretty. blue’s a good color on you

Harry bites his lip.

 **Me**  
14:28  
Call me

His phone starts ringing a moment later, and he answers quickly. “Hey, boo.”

 _“Don’t call me that,”_ Louis grumbles. _“Why’d you want me to call you?”_

Harry bites his lip. “‘Cause your voice is nice and I wanted to hear it.”

 _“God, you’re making me swoon,”_ Louis says sarcastically. _“No, seriously, what’s this about?”_

“I _am_ being serious,” Harry says with a chuckle. “You want to know what your voice reminds me of? It reminds me of sitting on a swing that’s hanging from a tree, watching the sun go down. It reminds me of that little moment when all your problems just go away. That moment of realization.”

Louis is silent for a minute, but then asks, _“Did you call me just to flirt?”_

Harry laughs and rolls off of his bed. He walks into the kitchen, taking a knife from the drawer, then making his way to the bathroom. “If I say yes will you hang up on me?” He shuts and locks the door behind him, putting his phone on speaker and down next to him on the sink.

 _“So then I’m right,”_ Louis says. _“You called me to get me to flirt with you.”_

“Is it working?” Harry runs the sharp knife under a bit of water, cleaning it off with a towel. He rolls up the sleeves of his shirt, exposing the many scars on his forearms. He picked up the knife with a shaky hand, positioning it over the only smooth skin on his right arm.

 _“Possibly,”_ Louis replies. _“But there is one problem: I thought you weren’t gay.”_

Harry freezes, the knife hovering barely an inch above his wrist. “I, um, I’m not. I’m bisexual.”

 _“Really?”_ Louis asks. _“Well, I’m not that surprised, to be honest.”_

“Oh, yeah?” In one swift motion, Harry drags the knife over his wrist, wincing softly at the stinging pain in his arm. “I’m too flamboyant to be straight, is that it?” He lets the blood drip down his fingers for a few moments, leaving large, red droplets in the sink.

 _“That’s not what I meant,”_ Louis says.

“Then please, enlighten me.” Harry finally grabs the med kit from the cabinet, taking out a needle and thread. He cuts off a bit of the thread with his teeth, clutches the needle in his injured hand, and threads it.

 _“You’re too... perfect,”_ Louis responds. _“Kind, funny, hot—perfect.”_

Harry feels himself blush, but it’s quickly replaced by a grimace as he sticks the needle into his skin and starts sewing his cut back up. “Now who’s flirting? You’re making me blush, sweetheart.” He lets out a particularly loud grunt of pain when he pulls the thread to tighten it, making him stop to take a deep breath.

 _“You alright, Hazza?”_ Louis asks.

“Hazza,” Harry repeats, completely ignoring Louis’s question. “A nickname, I assume. I like it.” He ties off the thread and cuts it with a small pair of scissors.

 _“‘Harry’ seemed just a bit boring,”_ Louis murmurs.

Harry barks out a laugh at his words, grabbing a roll of gauze from the kit. “Hilarious, Lou.” He unrolls a bit of the soft material and wraps it around his freshly stitched-up wrist, tying it off with some medical tape.

Louis snickers at bit. _“Sorry. Couldn’t help myself.”_

“No, it was a wonderful set up.” Harry picks up his phone and turns off the speaker phone, placing everything back into the small box. “I’m honestly quite proud.” He throws the med kit back into the cupboard and heads back to his room. He lays down on his bed, wincing when his moves his wrist too much. He suddenly remembers the questions he’s been wanting to ask him. “Hey, who’s that friend of yours that was at the café?”

 _“Liam,”_ Louis says.

“Liam what?” Harry questions.

 _“Liam Payne,”_ Louis tells him.

Harry laughs loudly. “Oh, my God.”

 _“What?”_ Louis asks. _“What is it?”_

“Nothing, it’s just...” Harry chuckles softly. “Zayn found him on Insta. He’s a bit obsessed.”

Louis laughs as well. _“You’re kidding! Liam’s practically in love!”_

“We should introduce them to each other,” Harry suggests.

 _“Are you saying we should get together?”_ Louis asks. _“Like a... double date?”_

Harry bites his lip. “Maybe...”

 _“My place,”_ Louis says simply. _“Friday. 19:00. I’ll text you the address.”_

“It’s a date,” Harry says. When he hears a knock, he says, “I’d better go. See you Friday.”

_“See you Friday.”_


	12. Louis - Double Date

“Liam!” Louis runs into the next room, holding up two shirts. One is a short-sleeved button-down, half mint green, half pink. The other is a simple white with a black collar and a black Adidas symbol on the front. “Which shirt?”

Liam looks over at him, eyes scanning. “Harry’s fashionable, right?” At Louis’s nod, he says, “Button-down.”

Louis hurried back into his room, throwing on the shirt and a pair of black jeans. He messes with his hair in the mirror, growling softly when he can’t get it to tame. He leaves it in its usual spiky state, hoping it’s not too bad.

“Hey, who’s this guy Harry’s bringing, anyways?” Liam asks.

Louis snickers softly to himself. “Oh, you’ll see! Trust me, you won’t be disappointed.” At the sound of the doorbell, he lets out a soft exhale, and makes his way to the front door. He opens it, smiling when he does so.

Harry is wearing a baggy, navy blue cardigan that drops down to about his mid-thigh. Underneath that, he’s wearing a soft yellow shirt and a pair of dark jeans. His nails are painted pink and silver, his usual array of rings sitting on his slim fingers.

Zayn, on the other hand, is dressed completely differently. He’s wearing a black, Louis Vuitton shirt, a leather jacket over it. His pants are a deep purple color that really only he could ever pull off. His hair is styled perfectly, looking as soft as feathers.

“Hi,” Harry says.

“Hi,” Louis greets.

After a few moments of awkward silence, Harry raises an eyebrow an asks, “Are you gonna invite us in or are we all just going to keep standing awkwardly in the door way?”

“Right. Sorry. Come in.” Louis moves aside, letting them in.

Harry looks around and whistles. “You’ve got a pretty nice place for a college kid.”

“Hey, Louis where’d you put the— oh.” They all turn to see Liam standing in the doorway of his room, one hand on the door knob and the other holding his glasses. He throws them on quickly, his eyes widening. “That’s— You— Zayn Malik.”

Zayn smirks. “You must be Liam.”

Liam clears his throat and steps forward, closing the door to his room. “And you must be Zayn. Nice to meet you.” He gives Louis a pointed look. “Can I talk to you?” He glances at the guests. “In private?”

Louis forces a chuckle. “Sure.” He turns to the other two. “One sec.” He walks over to his friend, instantly lowering his voice to a whisper. “What is it?”

“You invited _him_?” Liam whisper-yells. “After we only followed each other on Instagram. Are you crazy?!”

“I am not—” Louis stops suddenly. “Wait, you followed him?”

Liam hesitates. “I... yes, I did.”

Louis smirks. “Who knew Liam Payne was such a flirt?”

“Shut up,” Liam grumbles.

“Listen to me, Liam,” Louis snaps. “I invited him because you like him, and _he_ likes _you_. You obviously want to have sex with him, so go shoot your fucking shot.”

“But I—”

Before Liam can finish his sentence, Louis raises his voice and says, “Drinks, anyone?”

*******

“So Liam and Zayn seem to be hitting it off,” Harry says, sitting down beside Louis and nodding to the two boys, who were sitting on the couch and laughing their asses off.

“We should scheme together more often,” Louis says with a giggle, taking a sip of his drink. “We _are_ pretty good at it.”

Harry chuckles softly and looks down at his hands. “Thanks for inviting us. I had fun tonight.”

“Good,” Louis says, making Harry look up. “I wanted you to.”

“It’s a nice place.” Harry nudges his shoulder playfully. “But I still haven’t seen your bedroom.”

They both laugh loudly, Louis leaning his head into Harry’s shoulder. “God, could you be more obvious?” He lifts his head off of Harry’s arm, his breath catching when their gazes meet. There’s something in Harry’s eyes—something that Louis can’t quite place, but is mesmerized by anyways. He’s drawn to the strange thing and just can’t seem to look away. And when Harry’s eyes flick to his lips, he’s extremely tempted to close the distance between them.

Harry clears his throat and finally breaks the intense eye contact, looking literally anywhere but at Louis. Louis takes the hint and looks away as well, taking an awkward sip from his drink. They’ve known each other for how long and Louis already wanted to kiss him? Not good.

“And... they’re making out.”

Louis’s head snaps up at Harry’s words and he looks over to the couch to find Zayn nearly on Liam’s lap while they kiss roughly, both moaning softly against each other. Zayn has a hand up Liam’s shirt and Liam has one on Zayn’s ass. It’s hot, yes, but that’s also Louis’s couch.

“Hey, lovebirds!” They pull away and look up at Louis. “Not on my fancy leather!”

Liam rolls his eyes and grabs Zayn roughly by his chin, pulling him in for another kiss. By now, Zayn is straddling Liam’s hips, sitting in his lap.

Louis sighs in defeat. “My poor couch.”

“Ah, I’ll buy you a new one,” Harry says in a silent promise.

“My hero,” Louis jokes.

Harry cracks at smile at that.

*******

“So when do I get to see you again?” Harry asks as he stops in front of his car.

Louis rolls his eyes. “You watch too many romcoms, Hazza. They only say that in the movies.”

“What can I say?” Harry chuckles. “I’m a romantic.”

“If you’re being serious,” Louis says, “I don’t suppose your place will be clean by Saturday, will it?”

Harry shrugs. “I believe there’s a good chance it can be arranged.”

“Good. Make your bed, too. And use the nice bedsheets,” Louis whispers with a wink, laughing to himself when Harry’s face burns red.

“C’mon, lover boy, I have an early morning!” Zayn calls from his car.

“Guess that’s my cue,” Harry sighs. “Saturday, then?”

“Saturday,” Louis agrees.

With one last smile, Harry starts towards his car.

Liam comes up behind Louis as they watch the others leave. “Oh, you’re so whipped.”

Louis does nothing more than flip him the bird over his shoulder, secretly imagining what Harry’s lips actually felt like.


	13. Harry - “Oops.” “Hi.”

“So how’s your fuck buddy?” Harry asks Zayn from his spot at the kitchen table.

“He’s not my fuck buddy,” Zayn protests. “We made out _once_.”

“It was hot, though,” Harry argues before taking a bite of his salad. “Like _really_ hot.”

Zayn rolls his eyes. “Why don’t you just focus on your own future boyfriend instead of asking about mine?”

“So you admit that you like him?” Harry questions.

“Shut up.” At the sound of the doorbell, Zayn says, “Your date’s here.”

Harry flips him off, tosses his salad, and says, “Go hide in your room, Malik. I don’t need you here being your usual cockblocker self.”

Zayn laughs loudly and marches into his bedroom, leaving Harry alone.

He steps up to the front door and opens it, sighing contentedly at the sight in front of him. Louis is dressed in a large sweater that seems much too big for him, the sleeves bunching up at his wrists. He’s wearing tight, black jeans that mold his legs perfectly and simple white trainers. Harry thinks he looks amazing.

“Uh, hey,” Louis greets, sounding almost nervous.

“Hello, boo,” Harry says, biting his lip as he teases him and with the nickname.

“Thought you said you weren’t going to call me that,” Louis frowns.

“I said nothing of the sort,” Harry says. “But please, do come in.” He shuts the door behind Louis as he walks in.

Louis lets out a chuckle. “Wow. Um, this place is nice.”

“Being rich does have its perks,” Harry says, studying his own flat. His favorite part is the large floor-to-ceiling windows that decorate the walls, stretching to reveal the green landscape below.

Harry steps over to his fridge. “Would you like something to drink? I’ve got everything.”

“Uh, I’m good for now,” Louis says, still somewhat mesmerized by the apartment.

Harry grabs a beer for himself, popping off the cap with his bare hand. He takes a swig and walks over to Louis. “Sit down, boo. Standing is awkward.” He rounds over to the couch and sits, patting the spot beside him for Louis to sit. He does just that, putting far too much space between them for Harry’s liking. They sit in awkward silence for a few moments until Harry finally asks, “So how’s Liam?”

Louis glances at him, but then looks right back down at his fidgeting hands. “Oh, he’s good. I think he and Zayn are going out soon. He likes him a lot.”

“A match made in Heaven,” Harry sighs.

“Or a match made by a celebrity and a college student,” Louis mumbles, making Harry laugh softly.

They sit in silence once again, and this time Harry can’t come up with anything to say. Luckily, Louis comes to the rescue. He suddenly snatches Harry’s beer from his hand.

“Hey,” he yelps, reaching for it.

But Louis holds it out of his way. “We’re having a sober conversation, Haz. Calm down.”

Harry makes a pathetic noise. He moves closer to Louis, grasping uselessly for the beer bottle. He gets even closer, neither of them realizing just how _close_ they were really getting. “C’mon, Louis, give me the... bottle...” He trails off when he looks down to find himself straddling Louis’s waist.

Louis meets his gaze, the bottle crashing to the floor when his hand goes slack. He inhales sharply. “Oops.”

Harry looks straight into Louis’s gorgeous, blue eyes, his heart skipping a beat. “Hi.” He lowers the hand that had been reaching for the bottle and places both of them on the arm of the couch behind Louis’s head. He absentmindedly adjusts himself on his lap, exhaling softly.

Louis also puts his hands down, resting one on the back of the couch and placing the other one just beside Harry’s leg. Neither one of them are touching each other—besides the fact that Harry is sitting on his lap. The tension in the air is so thick you could shatter it just like the bottle Louis had dropped.

“Hazza...” Louis whispers, his eyes darting back and forth as if memorizing Harry’s face.

“Lou...” Harry hadn’t even realized their faces were getting closer, but in no time at all, he’s met with soft lips on his own. He still doesn’t move to touch Louis, he just kisses him. He kisses him deep and slow, just lips against lips. He doesn’t move to make the kiss more than it is—he just lets it happen on its own. And he likes it. A lot.

When he finally pulls away, he purses his lips and doesn’t meet Louis’s gaze. “Sorry.”

“No, don’t be sorry,” Louis says. “I, erm, I liked it.”

Harry smirks and glues his eyes to Louis’s. “You flirt.” He brings a hand forward and presses his pointer finger to Louis’s nose, snickering softly to himself.

Louis smiles and finally moves his hands. He places both on either one of Harry’s thighs, making them both simultaneously inhale sharply.

Harry moves next. He picks up one hand and places it on Louis’s chest. With the other, he strokes Louis’s hair lightly, biting his lip as he feels the soft strands between his fingers. “I, uh, can I kiss you again?”

Louis nods once, surging forward swiftly to meet Harry’s lips with his own. This time, the kiss is much more intense and heated. Harry tugs lightly on Louis’s hair and Louis squeezes his thighs in a rather strong grip, making him gasp right into his mouth. Louis moves his hands around to Harry’s ass and squeezes that too.

“L-Louis,” Harry pants into his mouth, trying desperately not to moan. “Mmm, shit.”

Louis moves down to his neck, sucking a kissing. Harry can’t help but moan this time, gripping Louis’s hair tightly, but not tight enough to hurt him. He barely even realizes when he grinds himself on Louis’s lap, but becomes fully aware when they both groan much too loudly.

“Hey, Harry, what’s that noise— oh, for the love of God.”

Harry yelps and moves Louis away from his neck, placing both hands on his shoulders and pushing him back against the couch. He stays on his lap, but looks up to meet the gaze of a smirking Zayn.

He chuckles and leans against the doorway of his bedroom. “Look what we have here. You two were totally about to fuck.”

“Not true!” Harry protests, glancing down at Louis to find him stifling a laugh. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” Louis says. “Just that you’re completely undermining your point by sitting on me like this.”

Harry pursed his lips and speaks in a small voice. “But your lap is comfortable.”

Zayn lets out a snort. “Okay, uh, I’m going to meet Liam. Try not to make a big mess.” He approaches the front door and leaves the flat.

Harry looks back down at Louis, a grin slowly spreading on his face. “Well, that was awkward.”

Louis chuckles softly and runs his hands up and down Harry’s thighs. “It was fun while it lasted.”

“We could... do it again,” Harry offered, stroking Louis’s cheek lightly.

“Make out or fuck on your couch?” Louis asks.

“Hmm,” Harry hums, thinking for a moment. “We go slow. Build up to it.”

“Disappointing,” Louis murmurs.

Harry snickers. “Just kiss me, you fool.”


	14. Louis - Going Out

Louis's lips are still tingling. It's been a week since his heated make out session with Harry and his lips are _still_ tingling. He can still feel Harry’s body against his, pulling on his hair and _wanting_ him.

Louis shivers at the thought. The second his phone starts ringing, he grabs it off the table, smiling wide when he sees who’s calling. He answers instantly. “Hey.”

 _“Hey,”_ Harry greets. _“What are you doing?”_

“Studying,” Louis says, glancing at the unopened textbook beside him. “You?”

 _“Thinking,”_ Harry replies.

“About what?” Louis questions, chewing on his bottom lip. He sits back against the pillows, folding his knees up to his chest.

 _“Hmm, that’s a secret, Lou,”_ Harry teases.

“Oh, yeah?” Louis smirks. “Can I take a guess?”

 _“Shoot,”_ Harry says.

Louis squeezes one of his thighs and asks, “Are you thinking about me?”

Harry stays silent for a few moments before saying, _“Huh. I’m that obvious, am I?”_

Louis chuckles softly. “So I’m right, then, yeah? You’re thinking about me?”

 _“Yes,”_ Harry admits. _“You’re right.”_

Louis exhales slowly. “What _about_ me?”

 _“What your lips felt like,”_ Harry says. _“So soft. And your body. So... wanting.”_

Louis quickly shuts his legs. “Stop.”

 _“Excuse me?”_ Harry asks.

“Stop it,” Louis says shakily. “I can’t...”

Harry laughs loudly. _“Sorry. I swear that whatever’s going on over there was not my intention.”_

Louis scoffs. “Oh, sure. You definitely didn’t mean to make me hard.”

 _“Oh, you’re_ hard _?”_ Harry asks. _“Well, that’s a whole other story.”_

“Shut up,” Louis snaps. “I thought you said we’re taking it slow.”

 _“You’re right, you’re right,”_ Harry sighs. _“Let’s change the subject. How’s Liam?”_

“Obsessed,” Louis responds simply. “He and Zayn talk all the time.”

Harry chuckles. _“Those two are practically in love.”_

Louis laughs to himself. “How are you, Hazza?”

Harry hesitates, making Louis frown. _“I’m... fine. And you?”_

Louis opens his mouth to say what he always says, but stops suddenly. Why does he have the urge to change his answer? Why does he have the urge to open up? Why does he have the urge to tell Harry the truth?

 _“Lou?”_ The frown in Harry’s voice is obvious. _“You there?”_

Louis clears his throat. “Yeah, sorry. I’m doing great.”

 _“That’s good to hear,”_ Harry says. _“Now, I was wondering something.”_

“What is it?” Louis asks.

 _“Wanna go out tomorrow?”_ Harry asks, sounding a bit nervous. _“Like... out? In the world?”_

“You want to get mobbed by paparazzi?” Louis questions.

 _“Well... no, but I want to go out with you,”_ Harry says. _“Take you to a real place. Have a real meal. Just the two of us. No Liam or Zayn around.”_

Louis smiles wide. “Harry Edward Styles. Are you asking me out on a date?”

 _“Thought that was obvious,”_ Harry muses with an anxious chuckle.

Louis lets out an embarrassing giggle. “I’d love to go on a date with you.”

_“Really? Like, a real date?”_

“Yes, Haz, a real date.”

_“That’s a good answer. So, tomorrow? I’ll pick you up at five?”_

“Tomorrow it is.”

_“Alright then. I’ll see you tomorrow. Oh, and wear something nice.”_

“I will. See you tomorrow, Hazza.” Louis hangs up, a large smile sitting on his face. He laughs once again and sighs contentedly, feeling something he hasn’t felt in a long time. There’s a warm feeling spreading through his chest that takes him back to many years ago. He feels... happy.

*******

“Louis, you’re going to be late for your date!” Liam calls.

“I know!” Louis growls, pulling on his suit jacket just as the doorbell rings. “Liam, can you get the door?” As he hears the sound of muffled chatter as Liam invites Harry in, he stuffs his feet into his shoes, fluffs up his hair, and throws open the door.

Harry instantly looks up at him, his lips spreading in a wide grin that makes Louis melt. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Louis says, studying Harry. He’s wearing an _extremely_ nice red, two-piece suit with a white blouse underneath. His hair is styled perfectly and his nails are painted white. He looks beautiful.

“You look good,” Harry remarks, gesturing vaguely to Louis’s simple navy blue suit. It’s the only one he could find.

“Thanks,” Louis says sheepishly. “You look... just... wow. I mean, you always do.”

“Ugh, I can’t handle this,” Liam groans. “Have fun, lovebirds. I’m hiding in my room.” He stalks over to his room, shutting the door behind him.

Louis approaches Harry, stopping a few feet away from him. “So? Where are we going?”

Harry smirks. “You’ll see.” He holds his hand out. “Shall we?”

Louis grins and takes his hand. “Absolutely.”

*******

“We’re here.”

Louis looks up, his breath catching at the sight. In front of them stands a small—yet beautiful—restaurant. There’s soft music coming from inside and gorgeous fairy lights hanging about the patio. Vines of ivy crawl all over the walls, giving the place a rustic—yet elegant—feel to it.

“Oh, my,” Louis murmurs under his breath. “This place is...” He just can’t find the right words.

Harry laughs loudly and steps out of the car. “It’s even nicer inside.” When Louis moves to open his own door, Harry hurries over to his side and stops him. “No. I’m getting the door. This is date night, remember?”

Louis rolls his eyes as Harry opens the car door for him and steps out, letting his date shut it. “Such a gentleman.”

Harry chuckles. “C’mon. Let’s get our table.”

Louis follows Harry into the restaurant, gawking at every little detail. He’s never been in a place this nice. It feels unnatural.

Harry stops them in front of the hostess.

“Reservation?” she asks in a heavy French accent.

“Styles,” Harry answers simply.

“Ah, yes, Monsieur Styles,” she mutters, marking something down in her book. She takes out two small folders. “This way, please.”

Louis and Harry follow her through the small area, passing incredibly well-dressed people as they go. They make it all the way to the back of the restaurant where a hanging garland of vines substitutes a door.

“You are right in there,” the hostess explains. “These are your menus.” She hands Harry the folders. “I’ll be back in a few minutes to take your orders.” She leaves a moment later.

“Ladies first,” Harry offers, pushing the vine curtain aside.

Louis rolls his eyes. “Shut up.” He walks into the room, instantly stopping to take it all in.

The lights are dimmed to a soft glow, illuminating only the brightest of highlights. There are vines inside as well, giving the room a very fairytale aesthetic. The table is lit with just two candles and is covered by a cream-colored tablecloth. It’s... perfect.

Louis lets out a soft breath. “Huh.”

“So we’re alone,” Harry says, answering the unspoken question. “No one can bother us here.”

Louis turns around to face him, wrapping his arms around his neck. “I love it.” When he feels Harry put his arms around his waist, he leans forward and presses chaste kiss to his lips. He pulls away a moment later.

“We should sit,” Harry says softly.

Louis nods and lets go of Harry, stepping over to the table. Harry hands him a menu as he sits down, which he gives him a smile for.

“What are you thinking, Lou?” Harry asks as he sits in the other chair.

“Hmm, not sure yet,” Louis mutters, scanning the menu. “Everything looks amazing.”

Harry suddenly grabs the menu from his hands. “Hey!”

He chuckles. “If you can’t decide, I’ll order for you, Louis.”

Louis sits back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest. “Fine. Pick something good.”

“Lasagna?” Harry suggests.

Louis swears under his breath as Harry offers something that sounds incredible at the moment and says, “That, uh, that sounds good, yes.”

Harry chuckles softly and puts the menus down. “Lasagna it is.”

A waitress comes in a few moments later to take their orders. Harry gets them an expensive wine along with their meal and she is gone just as quickly.

Louis can’t help but dig in the second she returns with their food. “Jesus fucking Christ. That’s delicious.”

Harry laughs loudly once more. “You’re so weird.”

Louis giggles. “Shut up.”

*******

Louis and Harry walk out of the restaurant hand-in-hand, laughing off their drunk asses. They got into his car, giggling like little kids.

“Did you have fun tonight?” Harry asks, leaning over to whisper in Louis’s ear.

“Yep,” Louis replies, putting emphasis on the ‘p.’ “A _lot_ of fun.” He places a hand on Harry’s thigh, squeezing lightly.

“Good,” Harry says softly, shifting in his seat to get closer. “I wanted you to.”

Louis turns his head quickly, placing a rather reckless kiss to his lips. He drags his hand up the inner side of Harry’s thigh, stopping barely an inch from his crotch.

Harry returns this kiss with just as much force, moving his tongue inside of Louis’s mouth. He roams around inside, making Louis moan breathily against his soft lips.

They kiss for what feels like hours until Louis can’t take it anymore. He moves his hand up farther until he reaches Harry’s crotch and starts palming him slowly through his pants.

Harry moans right into his mouth. “Louis...”

Louis pulls away from the kiss and presses their foreheads together. He keeps moving his hand, putting pressure every now and then. Based on the way Harry is reacting, he likes it.

“Louis,” Harry whispers breathlessly. “Louis, stop.” He grabs his hand and moves it off of him, also picking his head up. “We go slow, remember?”

Louis nods slowly. “Right. Sorry.”

Harry gives him a small smile. “It’s alright, boo. You didn’t do anything wrong.” He kisses Louis once more before sitting back in his seat. He adjusts his pants, tugging them down to most likely conceal how hard he’s gotten.

Louis smirks to himself and buckles his seatbelt. “Well, come on, Haz. I’ve got class tomorrow.”

Harry laughs. “Jerk.”


	15. Harry - New House

Zayn’s been acting weird. Ever since he and Liam started their ‘fling,’ he’s been more distanced than usual. He’s out more than he normally is and is always locked in his room, either calling Liam for a wank, or calling Liam just to talk. Either way, it’s always Liam, Liam, Liam.

It’s not that Harry is jealous. No, he has his own man and complicated relationship to worry about. It’s just that he honestly misses Zayn. _He_ used to be the one that Harry went to for advice. Now, he has to talk to _Niall_ , of all people. (But not Louis. He’s too scared to talk to Louis.)

Harry’s had enough of how suspicious Zayn’s been. So, he decides to get to the bottom of it.

Zayn has been out for about an hour and isn’t supposed to be back for another few. So, Harry sneaks into his room and starts rummaging around. It’s a pretty basic room—for a famous celebrity, that is—there’s nothing really out of the ordinary. Unless you count the unnecessary amount of finished, unfinished, and yet-to-be-touched canvases covering the floor.

Yeah. Zayn likes to paint.

Harry can’t find _anything_ that is _remotely_ unlike Zayn. It’s mostly just painting supplies and hair products. 

And that’s when he notices the papers sticking out from under his blankets.

Harry isn’t usually one for snooping. He doesn’t like invading another’s privacy. But when it comes to his best friend that he’s known since childhood... Well, he lets a few things slide.

He throws back the covers on Zayn’s bed and picks up the small folder, opening it with a frown on his face. He flips through the pages and mutters his puzzlement out loud. “Real estate papers.”

In impromptu—but totally perfect—fashion, there is the unmistakable sound of the door opening, and then the unmistakable sound of an Irish accent. “Harry! Zayn! I got Nandos!”

Harry walks back out to see Niall setting his bag down on the kitchen counter and pulling up and stool. He immediately digs in, sighing contentedly to himself.

 _Weirdo,_ a voice at the back of Harry’s mind murmurs.

He steps forward even further, pushing the bag away from Niall as well as the food in his hands.

“Hey!” Niall protests through a mouthful of chicken.

“You can have your Nandos after you answer one question for me,” Harry snaps. “Just one. Got it?”

Niall nods as if _he’s_ been taken hostage, and _not_ the food in front of him.

“What are these documents?” Harry asks, holding up the folder.

Niall glances at it, then back up at him. He gulps nervously. “Uh, where’d you get those?”

“Zayn’s bed,” Harry answers simply. “Now tell me what they’re for and why the hell he’s got a contracting company signing on with him?”

Niall sighs. “I’m really not supposed to tell you—”

“I’ll eat the chicken, Niall!” Harry spits with aggression he only ever used when performing ‘Kiwi.’ “Answer the fucking question!”

“Okay, okay!” Niall puts his hands up as if he really _has_ had his life threatened. “Zayn’s building a house. He told me he wants a place to his own. He says it’s only for himself, but I actually think we all know it’s so he can fuck Liam in peace. That’s all I know, I swear!”

Harry finally lets go of the bag, handing it back to Niall, who’s shivering like a fucking hairless cat caught in a blizzard. The Irishman takes the bag in desperate hands, glaring angrily at Harry, who puts his hands up in defense as he walks away.

He heads back into Zayn’s room, placing the folder right back where he found it. The second he puts it back, he dials Zayn’s number.

The bloke picks up right away.

**(A/N: Read ‘Fall Into Midnight’ chapter 6 to find out what Harry and Zayn talked about.)**

*******

“He’s building a _house_?” Louis asks as he sits down next to Harry on the couch, who’s fighting the urge to grab the glass of bourbon sitting right in front of him.

“Crazy, right?” he asks. “All these years of trying to get him his own flat and he goes and gets one all on his own.”

“Well, that’s good, right?” Louis questions. “Now you also have your own place?” He picks up one of the baby carrots that he insisted Harry set out and pops it into his mouth.

Harry shrugs. “I guess. But Zayn’s my closest friend. I’ve known him for almost my entire life. The apartment just isn’t the same without him.”

“Then why don’t you tell him that?” Louis asks.

“Because we’ve been living together for years,” Harry sighs. “We both need a change. Besides, I’m not about to tell him that he can’t build himself a house because I’m a whiny arsehole who can’t go a full week without the smell of paint hanging in the air.”

“He paints?” Louis says with a frown.

“Yes, he paints,” Harry confirms. “I’ll miss that too.”

“Sounds like _you_ need a _distraction_ ,” Louis says with a smirk. He scoots closer to Harry and crawls onto his lap, biting his lip and keeping eye contact as he does so. Harry feels as his heart skips more than one beat when he looks up into those perfect blue eyes. He gulps nervously when Louis leans forward, fully expecting a kiss.

But—sadly—he is disappointed.

Louis leans forward, yes, but not to kiss him. Instead, he reaches behind him for the television remote, which he then grabs. Once the small object is in his hand, he rolls off of Harry and sits beside him with the most smug look on his face.

“What the hell was that?” Harry asks, his heart still pounding in his ears.

“What was what?” Louis asks, sounding much too innocent.

“That... That... _That_ ,” Harry stammers.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Louis says, holding up the black device in his hand. “I was just grabbing the remote.”

Harry nudges him with his foot, his face burning with embarrassment. “Fuck you and your fucking remote.”

Louis laughs loudly and moves closer, laying his head on Harry’s shoulder. “Sorry, Haz. I wanted to have some fun.”

“Oh, I’m not fun enough for you?” Harry jokes, not even realizing when he starts playing with Louis’s hair.

He chuckles. “Not at all.”

Harry can’t help but crack a smile. He kisses the top of Louis’s head and leans back against the couch, wrapping his arm around him. “So? What show is it this time?”

“Let’s watch ‘Friends.’”

“Oh, for the love of God.”


	16. Louis - Something New

“So you’re telling me that you _still_ haven’t fucked him yet?” Louis asks before taking a sip from his wine bottle.

“Why are you so surprised?” Liam questions, fixing his hair in the mirror before plopping down on the couch. “It’s not like he’d pressure me or anything.”

“It’s not _him_ I’m shocked by,” Louis says. “It’s _you_.”

 _“Me?”_ Liam asks, incredulous.

“Yes, you,” Louis says with a small laugh. “I can tell that you want him. And when you want something, you go after it. It’s just weird to me that you have yet to try and get into his pants.”

Liam scoffs. “Oh, come on, that is _not_ tru—”

“Luke Hemmings,” Louis cuts in, recalling a certain relationship they haven’t spoken about in years.

Liam opens his mouth to say something, but seems to think better of it. He instead looks down at his hands and sighs softly. “Okay, fine. Maybe you’re right. But this time is different. This time... This time I want to take things slow.”

“Well, good for you, Liam,” Louis says, feeling his phone buzz in his pocket. He pulls it out with careful hands, reading the message from Harry.

‘My place, half an hour. I want to try something out.’

“Pretty sure that’s your cue,” Liam mutters.

Louis rolls off the couch, jumping to his feet. “I don’t know when I’ll be home. Just don’t fuck up my couch.”

*******

“So what’s this thing you wanted to try?” Louis asks, laying with his head in Harry’s lap.

Harry looks down at him, a small smile tugging at his perfectly sculpted lips. He runs a hand through Louis’s hair, fingering the soft strands. “You’re gonna have to sit up.”

Louis does as he says, settling just beside him on the bed. “Okay. I’m up.”

Harry leans towards him, placing his strong arms on either side of his body. Louis’s breath hitches as he looks into Harry’s eyes, catching the warm look in them. “You’re also gonna have to let me kiss you.”

Louis nods, closing his eyes as he feels Harry press their lips together. Louis nips at his soft lips, sucking his bottom one into his mouth. He feels as Harry settles himself in Louis’s lap, straddling his hips.

Louis pulls away, meeting his gaze once more. “This isn’t new.”

Harry smirks, wrapping his arms around his neck. “Just wait, baby. And let me kiss you.”

So Louis lets Harry kiss him, tongues and lips clashing. He brings a hand up to cup the side of Harry’s face, moaning softly into his mouth when he bites down on Louis’s bottom lip.

Harry moves down to his neck, sucking, biting, and kissing at the skin. Louis groans at every touch, sliding his hands up into Harry’s hair. “Mmm, Hazza.”

Harry trails his hands down Louis’s chest, pressing their foreheads together. He brings his hands all the way down to his thighs, which he rubs firmly. He then moved his fingers further up, cupping him through his pants.

“Oh,” Louis breathes. “That’s new.”

“I can touch you, right?” Harry whispers, biting his lip in wait.

Louis nods, neither slowly nor quickly. “Yes.” So Harry does just that, moving his hand at a slow pace. He presses slightly, making Louis gasp.

“Is this okay?” Harry asks.

Louis nods again, this time much faster. He clenches his eyes shut from the pleasure, trying his hardest not to moan too loudly. He grabs onto Harry’s shoulders, groaning low in his throat.

Harry leans forward, kissing Louis lightly. Louis gasps against his lips when Harry puts a bit more pressure, a moan following close behind. Knowing he can’t last another second with touching him, Louis reaches up and grabs the steadily growing bulge in Harry’s pants, palming him slowly through the fabric.

Harry lets out a soft breath and drops his head onto Louis’s shoulder, their hands moving in a steady rhythm. Both of them are already moaning messes, breathing hard in unnerving synchronization. Harry occasionally nips or kisses at his neck, but other that that, he’s too busy groaning in Louis’s ear to do more than jack him off through his pants. But Louis doesn’t mind. He’s too overwhelmed by pleasure to need anymore stimulation.

“Baby...” Harry pants softly. “Are you close?”

Louis manages a small nod. “Yeah. You?”

Harry hums loudly in his ear. “Yeah.”

Louis puts his free hand in Harry’s hair, combing it gently. He lets out a moan in his ear, feeling as he gets closer and closer to the edge.

“H-Harry,” he gasps. “Harry, I— _mmm_.” His back arches off the bed as he meets his climax, feeling Harry tremble in his arms almost at the same time.

Harry sits up straight in his lap, still breathing rather hard. He lets out a breathy chuckle, cracking smile. “Well? How’s that for something new?”

“Good,” Louis says, holding his thighs in his hands. “We should try something _else_ new next time.”

Harry laughs once more, pecking Louis quickly on the lips. “Real smooth, babe.”

“‘Smooth’ _is_ my middle name,” Louis says. He thinks for a moment. “Actually, it’s ‘William.’ I mean, incase you want to know.”

“Louis William Tomlinson,” Harry whispers, trying the name out while stroking Louis’s cheek lightly. “Perfect name for the perfect guy.”

Louis bites back a smile and says, “You know, this is usually the part where you tell me _your_ middle name.”

Harry snickers to himself. “It’s, uh, it’s Edward.”

Louis raises an eyebrow. “Harold Edward Styles?” At Harry’s nod, he says, “It’s cute.”

“Hmm, _you’re_ cute,” Harry murmurs, ducking his head down to kiss at Louis’s neck again.

Louis twirls a strand of Harry’s curls around his finger, sighing at the feeling of his lips on his skin. “I am, aren’t I?”

“Hmm, yes you are,” Harry mumbles, soft lips moving against Louis’s skin. “So cute.”

“You’re not too bad yourself, Edward,” Louis says.

Harry sighs softly. “I’m never gonna live that down, am I?”

“Mmm, don’t think so,” Louis says, trailing his hands up from Harry’s thighs to his back.

Harry pulls away from Louis’s neck, only to position himself so their lips were barely a breath away. “I’m going to take a shower. When I get back, _you’ll_ take one. And then the two of us are gonna watch a show— _not_ ‘Friends’—in this bed. And we’re not going to touch each other. It’ll just be a nice, quiet cuddle session. Got it?”

Louis nods minutely. “Got it.”

Harry smiles. “See? Adorable.”

*******

As promised, Louis and Harry crawl into the bed together in front of the television that sat on the wall. Louis curls up close to Harry, placing his head on his chest. “So, if it’s not ‘Friends,’ then what’s the show tonight?”

“Not sure.” Harry clicks on the TV, adjusting so his arm was around Louis’s shoulders. “We’ll find something.”

Louis watches as Harry flips through the channels, vaguely aware of the fact that his eyelids are getting heavier as each second passes. He can’t hold back the yawn he lets out, blinking a few times to try to stay awake.

“Are you falling asleep, baby?” Harry questions.

Louis hesitates before saying, “No.”

Harry laughs loudly, his chest rumbling as he does so. “Aw, you poor thing.” He kisses the top of Louis’s head, clicks off the television, and pulls him closer. “You can go to sleep. I don’t mind.”

“You’ll keep me safe?” Louis jokes with a small laugh, letting his eyes fall shut on their own.

“I’ll _always_ keep you safe.”


	17. Harry - Dr. Griffiths

Harry startles awake for no apparent reason, forgetting for a moment about the man sleeping soundly beside him. Careful not to wake him, Harry slowly pushes him away, just enough so he can roll off of the bed. The second his feet hit the carpet, he stands up off the bed and slips into the bathroom.

He flips on the light, going to the sink. Turning it on, he cups his hands and fills them up with water, splashing his face with the cool liquid. He shuts off the sink and looks up at himself in the mirror.

His eyes are sunken and dark with dread. Every breath is shaky and hitched, almost like a broken record. And to top it all off, his hand is starting to hurt.

He looks down at it, finding it shaking violently. He clenches it into a fist, exhaling slowly. He absolutely does not want to admit it, but...

He needs help.

*******

“Sit down, Mr. Styles.”

Harry does as she says, plopping down onto the couch. He picks up his usual pillow, clutching it in his hands.

He can already feel his arm starting to shake.

“This is not a usual visit,” Dr. Griffiths observes. “Is there something wrong?”

“No,” Harry says. “I just... need to vent.”

“Then go ahead,” she urges. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

He sighs and holds the pillow closer to his chest. “I’m having... I don’t know, a bit of an identity crisis.”

“How so?” she asks with a frown.

“I, uh...” He clears his throat. “I fucked a guy. And I liked it. So I fucked another one. And another one. And now I have a... Well, I don’t know what we are. We haven’t really had the conversation yet. He’s a friend. A friend that I kiss occasionally. We haven’t even had sex yet. He’s just... someone.”

“So this is a fresh relationship,” Dr. Griffiths concludes. “Fresh relationships can be difficult. Especially when you’re still figuring out your sexuality.”

“I mean, I’m bisexual,” Harry says. “I’ve got that much figured out. But this guy’s, like, amazing. And I’m... well, not.”

“So you don’t think you’re good enough?” she guesses.

“No, it’s not that,” he sighs. “I... I’m scared that once I open up to him, he’s gonna leave. That he won’t want to deal with all my problems. _You_ do, but that’s because it’s your job to listen to me talk. But it’s not _his_ job. He doesn’t _have_ to listen. He can bail the second I open my mouth if he wants to.”

“So if you’re so afraid that he’s going to leave, why bother going through with the relationship?” the doctor asks.

“Because he’s great and I like him,” Harry blurts out. “A lot. I like him a lot. And I know that the longer I wait to tell him the truth, the worse it’ll be when I finally do, but I just can’t break it off for some reason. He’s... well, he’s _him_. Amazing, perfect him.”

“Will you tell me his name?” she asks.

He shakes his head. “Nah. He deserves his privacy. Besides, you’ll probably hear it in the tabloids the second I fuck up and accidentally out us to the world.”

“That’s not a very positive way of thinking,” she says with a frown.

“Well, it’s true,” Harry snaps. “I’ve done it before. Taylor, Kendall—I’ll do it again.”

“Wait, I thought Taylor was a PR stunt,” Dr. Griffiths recalls.

“She was,” he confirms. “But we technically weren’t supposed to come out for another week. I was taking her out to coffee when those pictures were taking. Anyways, my point is that I have a somebody and I don’t want to lose him.”

“He sounds like a great guy.” She gives him a small smile.

Harry returns the smile at the thought of Louis’s sleepy face. “He is.” He chuckles at the memories. “All he ever wants to watch is ‘Friends.’ Anything else and he gets so cranky. And his face does this adorable scrunchy thing.” He laughs louder, hugging the pillow. He clears his throat when he catches the therapist giving him a knowing look and decides to change the subject. “My friend is buying a house.”

“How is that relevant?” she asks.

“Because it’s pissing me off,” he replies. “We’ve lived together for as long as I can remember. He’s my best friend. He hit a bit of a rough patch recently, so I tried to find him a place so he could be alone. Figured it my cheer him up. And then he goes and signs a contract that says he’s gonna pay a shit-ton of money to build a house for himself.”

“And you’re angry because you’ve been trying to do the same,” she remarks.

Harry nods slightly. “Exactly.”

“This has been a nice conversation, but I can tell there’s something else,” the doctor says. “You wouldn’t schedule this meeting just for another venting session. What’s _really_ going on, Harry?”

He sighs softly, just knowing if he lets go of the pillow, he’ll reveal the truth. So he does, holding out a hand for her to see. It quivers unnervingly, sending spasms of pain up his arm. He clutches it back to his chest, gritting his teeth to hide his discomfort.

“Oh,” the doctor breathes. “When did this start?”

“About two months ago,” he explains. “At first it was nothing—I’d... drop something. But I started noticing the spasms about three weeks ago. I thought it was nothing—just the jitters, or something. But then I’d feel the pain and I—” He exhales shakily, pushing down the pain. “Just tell me what’s wrong with me.”

“If I’m being honest...” Dr. Griffiths sighs. “I don’t know. I’ll have to consult with your doctor. Get you some sort of meds.”

Harry nods. “Uh, thanks, Doc.” He looks down at the floor, feeling his hand throb heavily.

“Of course, Harry,” she responds with a smile. “Now as for this boyfriend—or whatever he is—of yours... You don’t have to tell him the truth right away. You have no obligation to anyone to do so. You’ve been through enough. Take your time. But just know that if he likes you as much as you like him, there’s no reason to be afraid. You’re a great guy. Anybody’s lucky to know your story.”


	18. Louis - Don’t Let Me Go

_“Shut up! You have no right to speak!”_

_“Wait for permission, you slut.”_

_“Don’t talk back to me, you fag. If you do, I’ll fucking kill you.”_

*******

Louis sits up bolt right, his heart pounding. His skin is on fire, as if he’s still receiving those burns. Every breath is like lava in his lungs. It hurts like hell. He’s paralyzed, stuck in this spot and position. And he’s so focused on how badly everything hurts that he totally forgets about the sleeping figure beside him, who is slowly starting to stir. He barely even registers when he feels him sit up.

“Louis?” Harry whispers, yawning slightly. “What’s wrong?”

Louis quickly taps his right index finger against his left thumb, which is something he learned a long time ago. He was taught to make the hand motion whenever he knew he couldn’t speak. But only his closest friends and family know what it means. Harry doesn’t.

“Louis?” he questions again, sounding concerned. “Louis, baby, talk to me.”

“I-I-I... I...” Louis purses his lips when he can’t even get a single word out, tapping his hand faster. “H-Ha...”

“Louis, are you okay?!” a panicked Harry asks.

Louis rolls off the bed, flicking on the light. He grabs his phone off the nightstand, dialing the one number he can think of to call. He starts to pace nervously, biting his nails as he waits for Liam to pick up. He glances at Harry every now and then, who is watching him pace with concern in his eyes.

 _“Louis, what the hell?”_ Liam growls when he finally answers. _“It’s the middle of the night!”_

“L-L-Li—” Louis stutters, feeling tears form in his eyes.

 _“Oh,”_ Liam says, understanding. _“Did you have the dream again?”_

“Ye- Y... Yes,” Louis manages.

 _“Okay, just breathe, Louis,”_ Liam instructs. _“Deep breaths. It wasn’t real. He can’t hurt you anymore.”_

So Louis breathes, finally stopping in his tracks. He closes his eyes and inhales deeply, letting out the air through his mouth.

 _“Take it slow, remember?”_ Liam asks.

Keeping his eyes closed, Louis tries, “T-T-Take it... t... sl- sl- sl—” He groans loudly when he can’t get the last word out, clutching at his hair in frustration.

 _“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay,”_ Liam reassures him. _“Try again. Take it slow.”_

“Sl- Slow,” Louis whispers. “Slow. Take it slow.”

 _“Good,”_ Liam praises. _“Better?”_

Louis says, “Better.”

 _“Are you alone?”_ Liam asks. _“Or is someone there with you?”_

Finally opening his eyes, Louis glances at Harry, who’s panicking on the bed. “No, I’m not alone. I’ve got... someone.”

 _“He’ll understand, right?”_ Liam asks.

“Of course,” Louis says. “You don’t have to w-worry.” He purses his lips, slowing down. “I’ve gotta go. Thanks for your help.”

_“Anytime, Lou.”_

He hangs up, slowly putting his phone back down on the nightstand. He doesn’t dare meet Harry’s gaze, _terrified_ of what he’ll find in it. So he sits down on the edge of the bed, looking down at the floor.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Harry whispers after a few moments of silence.

“I couldn’t,” Louis replies, feeling tears fall down his cheeks. “I didn’t know how you were gonna react.”

“You thought I’d leave you over a stutter?” Harry asks softly. “How stupid can you be?”

Louis sobs lightly, wiping at his tears. “I know it was stupid, I just— I-I didn’t—”

“Baby, it’s okay,” Harry says. Louis feels as he wraps his arms around his waist, placing his head on his shoulder. “I just wish you told me.” He presses soft kiss to the back of Louis’s neck, letting his lips linger for a few moments.

“I’m sorry, Haz,” Louis whispers, subconsciously trailing a hand up his right arm and tracing the burn scar on his bicep.

It’s then that he realizes he’s shirtless.

It’s _also_ then that Harry realizes it too.

“Louis, what’s this on your back?” he asks, pulling away from him and putting his hands on Louis’s shoulders.

Louis stays silent, hanging his head.

“Louis are these scars?!” Harry gasps, finally unveiling the truth. “Baby, what the hell happened to you?!”

“I don’t w-want to talk about it,” Louis whispers, not even caring whether or not his stutter comes back. It’ll probably be better if he can’t speak.

“Louis, talk to me,” Harry begs with a small sniffle. “Please.”

So Louis turns around, bringing his legs up onto the bed. And with a shaky breath, he talks to him. He tells him about Kace, about his Foster life, and about every little detail since. He tells him about the scars and how he got them, as well as who gave them to him. And he tells him about his sister’s death. He doesn’t know why he does. He’s not even sure if the two of them are technically in a relationship. But what he _does_ know is that Harry’s the type to understand, and he needs someone that will understand at the moment. Harry also listens, letting him talk for almost two hours. And when he’s done...

Louis sighs softly, running a hand down his face. Harry takes said hand in one of his own, interlacing their fingers.

“Well, I’m glad that you told me,” he says softly. “It means a lot that you can trust me with all this.”

“You deserve to know the truth,” Louis answers simply, catching the slight flash in Harry’s eyes when he does so. He suddenly leans forward, catching Louis’s lips in a kiss. Louis kisses right back, a warm feeling blooming in his chest.

Harry pulls away, bringing a hand up to caress Louis’s cheek. “Let’s just sleep, baby. We can talk more in the morning.”

Louis nods, laying back up by the pillows. Harry joins him, letting Louis rest his head on his chest. He traces Harry’s butterfly tattoo, feeling his eyes slowly starting to flutter closed. As each second passes, he feels himself falling deeper into sleep. And just as he’s on the edge between dream and reality, he hears the soft hum of a melodious voice start to fill the room.

_“Now you were standing there right in front of me/I hold on, it’s getting harder to breathe/All of a sudden these lights are blinding me/I never noticed how bright they would be.”_

Louis sighs softly at the song, snuggling closer to Harry.

_“I saw in the corner there is a photograph/No doubt in my mind it’s a picture of you/It lies there alone in its bed of broken glass/This bed was never made for two/I’ll keep my eyes wide open/I’ll keep my arms wide open.”_

Still barely awake, Louis manages to catch the last few lines.

_“Don’t let me, don’t let me, don’t let me go/Cause I’m tired of feeling alone/Don’t let me, don’t let me, don’t let me go.”_

_“Cause I’m tired of feeling alone.”_


	19. Harry - Ready

Harry awakes to the sound of soft snoring. He smiles at this when he opens his eyes to find that it’s Louis, who’s got his head laying on Harry’s chest. Harry can’t help but stroke his hair lightly, running his finger through the impossibly soft strands.

Louis smiles sweetly and his eyes slowly flutter open. He looks up at Harry through his full lashes, his mouth opening in a wide yawn. “Morning, Haz.”

Harry bites his lip to hide his grin and ruffles Louis’s hair. “Good morning, Princess.”

“Oh, I’m your princess now?” Louis asks, moving further up Harry’s body to kiss him.

“You’ve always been my princess,” Harry smirks after pulling away. “I’ve just finally decided to tell you.”

Louis laughs loudly, resting his chin right between Harry’s sparrow tattoos, which are covered by the black fabric of his shirt. The smile that spreads his lips lights up his face in the most amazing way, making Harry’s stomach do this embarrassing fluttering thingy. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I need food.”

“Mmm, just a few mores minutes,” Harry hums, wrapping his arms around Louis to hold him close.

“Fine. A few minutes.” Louis leans back up to kiss him again, allowing Harry to melt into the feeling of his soft lips. So he kisses him again. And again. And again.

“Haz,” Louis breathes softly into his mouth. “Haz, I want you.”

“Like _want_ want?” Harry asks, leaning up to pepper kisses along Louis’s neck.

“Yes, _want_ want,” Louis confirms, panting softly into Harry’s mouth. “I’m ready.”

Harry pulls away from his neck, nodding slightly. He rolls them over so he’s the one on top, careful not to smother Louis with the few inches he has on him. He sits up on his lap and quickly pulls of his shirt, exposing his many tattoos. He kisses Louis again, this time much more passionately and with his intentions clear. He trails his fingers over the small stretch of skin just about the waistband of Louis’s sweatpants, making said man inhale sharply.

“Can I?” Harry whispers, hooking his fingers under the elastic. At Louis’s nod, he grabs the fabric in both hands and tugs it down, leaving him in nothing but his rather tight boxers. Harry presses a few kisses to Louis’s chest before going back to his lips.

Louis rolls them over again, Harry’s hands roaming all over his back. Louis traces a few of his tattoos, slowly getting closer and closer to the dark blue material of his underwear. But when he reaches it, Harry suddenly grabs his wrist.

“Wait,” he cuts in. “Are you _sure_ you want to do this?”

Louis chuckles. “Yes, Haz, I’m sure. Are _you_ sure?”

Harry gives a small nod, letting go of Louis’s hand. At his consent, Louis drags off his boxers—and then his own—finally leaving them with nothing in between.

Harry throws his arms around him and pulls him close, connecting their lips in a heated kiss that made a warm feeling spread through his chest. Louis’s the one that pulls away, moving down to his neck.

“Louis,” Harry says, trying not to moan as said man sucks a bruise into his neck. “Y-You’re clean, right?”

“Yeah,” Louis mumbles against his skin. “You?”

“Yeah,” Harry replies.

“Is this your way of saying you don’t want to use a condom?” Louis questions.

“If I’m gonna have you, I want _you_ ,” Harry answers simply.

Louis nods quickly before sticking two fingers into his mouth. Harry barely has time to register what he’s doing before he feels Louis slowly push one of them into him.

He gasps softly, biting his lip.

“This okay?” Louis asks softly against his ear. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’re not hurting me,” Harry assures him. “I’m perfectly fine.”

So Louis slowly starts moving his finger in and out, curling it every now and then. At Harry’s request, he adds a second. And then a third. He scissors and curls his fingers, stretching Harry open.

After what feels like forever, Harry feels ready. “Louis, I need you. Please.”

“I got you, Hazza.” Louis pecks him quickly on the lips before pulling his fingers out. He maintains eye contact as he _spits_ on his _hand_ and lowers it to his cock, which he gives a few strokes. (Harry can’t possibly deny that he finds this _incredibly_ hot.)

Positioning himself just at Harry’s hole, Louis whispers, “Ready?”

Harry nods. “Ready.”

And at that, Louis slowly starts to push in.

Harry gasps at the burn, but prompts Louis to keep going. And when he feels him make it all the way in, he can’t help but moan.

“I’m gonna move now, okay?” Louis tells him. “Just tell me if it’s too much.”

Harry nods quickly, just wanting to feel him at the moment. He gasps loudly when Louis starts to move at a slow pace, causing that strange (but pleasurable) sensation that he’s grown to crave. Every thrust is a wake up call to the truth, which he feels his heart skip at.

“F-Faster,” Harry demands through a moan, clawing at Louis’s back.

So Louis moves faster, the bed starting to move along with him. Harry silently thanks Liam for inviting Zayn over to his place. Otherwise, he probably would have jumped out the window.

Harry moans loudly, throwing his head back deeper into the pillows. A small tear trails its way down his cheek, which Louis wipes away with his thumb. Harry doesn’t know why he’s crying—he’s not in any kind of pain, or anything. Maybe it’s because he can’t focus on anything other than the truth, which is repeating in his head like a fucking mantra. It’s not that he doesn’t like the truth. He’s just terrified of it. He hasn’t had this feeling since Nick. And as anyone can recall, that relationship didn’t exactly end well.

Yeah, so maybe he has a reason to be afraid of the truth. But that doesn’t explain the tears.

“Harder,” Harry whispers, closing his eyes.

So Louis fucks him harder to the point where Harry is honestly surprised the bed hasn’t crashed through the goddamn wall. They’re honestly in danger of getting a noise complaint from the neighbors.

The nearest neighbors are almost a mile away.

Harry cries out suddenly when Louis hits a bundle of nerves deep inside of him that makes his back arch. “God, Louis! Fuck, again!”

Understanding what Harry means, Louis angles his hips to hit that spot again while pressing the occasional kiss to his neck.

“Louis,” Harry groans. “I’m gonna come.”

Louis instantly reaches down to Harry’s cock, stroking it at a quick pace. Harry comes a few moments later, Louis following close behind.

He places his hands on either side of Harry’s head, breathing heavily. His arms are trembling from the strain of holding up his own weight for so long, so Harry caresses his cheek lightly to let him know that he’s not alone in his weak state.

Louis gives him a smile before kissing him. He pulls away, only to press their foreheads together. “I don’t about you, but I need a shower.”

Harry chuckles. “Last door on your left, Princess.”

*******

Harry doesn’t really know what he was expecting. He doesn’t actually know whether or not Louis is a singer, but judging by the angelic voice that flows from the bathroom, he’s got an answer.

He’s laying on his bed—in the slightest but of discomfort from their strenuous activities before—flipping through his song-writing notebook. He’s been working on ‘Don’t Let Me Go’ for _years_ and he’s almost got it. He’s just about to reach for a pencil when he hears Louis.

_“It’s an old curse/Dreamers divin’ head first/Broken beaks and dead birds/Can’t get through the glass.”_

Harry freezes, slowly raising his head. That’s _Louis_? Damn, he’s got a beautiful voice.

_“There’s no use crying over spilt blood/Caring only kills love/A kiss won’t bring it back.”_

Harry sits up straight, shutting his journal.

_“I know that the first blow is too cold.”_

He feels as if he’s literally the main character, listening to his love interest sing for the first time. He could listen to Louis sing for the rest of his fucking life. His voice is so unique and perfect and Harry just can’t get enough of it. It’s beautiful.

_“Young man, hush your crying, dry your tears away/Nothing is original, there’s nothing left to say/You won’t be the first or be the last to bleed/Every broken heart as far as your eye can see/It’s a copy of a copy of a copy/It’s a copy of a copy of a copy.”_

If Harry wasn’t positive before, he sure is now. He knows the truth with all of his heart.

And for fuck’s sake he is screwed.


	20. Louis - I Believe

Louis and Liam decided to have a boys’ day out. It’s been way too long since they hung out, seeing as they’ve both been busy with their significant others. Louis’s happy that they both agreed. It’s weird to live in the same apartment, yet feel a million miles away from someone. He misses Liam, if he’s being honest. But—of course—he’ll never admit that to anyone.

Liam takes them to a small coffee shop in a secluded part of town. The sign above the door reads ‘BEECHWOOD CAFÉ’ which Louis frowns at. Why does that sound so familiar? The whole place has a blue and yellow aesthetic, which only adds to Louis’s frustration. Everything about the café reminds him of something, but he just can’t put his finger on it.

Well, that’s gonna bug him.

Liam gets them a table and they order. Liam gets himself some sort of coffee, while Louis gets a Yorkshire tea. You can never go wrong with tea.

About ten minutes into the incredibly nice “friend date,” Liam asks a very peculiar question. A question so peculiar Louis almost spits out his tea.

“Hey, Louis?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you believe in love?”

Louis coughs loudly, putting his mug down so he doesn’t spill it. When he can finally fucking breathe again, he asks, “What?”

“I asked if you believe in love,” Liam mumbles, his cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment. He scratches awkwardly at the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at Louis.

“Why would you ask that?” Louis asks. “Is something going on?”

“Never mind,” Liam sighs. “It was a stupid question.” He picks up his coffee and takes a long sip from it, most likely to take away the large cloud of tension hanging over them. Unfortunately, it doesn’t work.

The two of them sit in silence for a few minutes, listening to the sounds of the world around them. But when it gets to the point where Louis can’t take it anymore and has what he _thinks_ is an answer, he speaks up. “Well, it’s hard to tell. ‘Love’ is an interesting concept. People have multiple definitions for it. It can mean being so, totally taken by someone you can hardly speak. Or it can mean putting others needs before your own. However, _I_ think that it means a multitude of things. Love is...” He chuckles softly to himself. “Love is looking up a reference just so you can laugh at the GIF he sends you. Love is laying awake at night waiting patiently for him to text you back. Love is stealing glances when he’s not looking, wondering how someone like you could _possibly_ have someone so... so perfect. So, if you’re asking me if I believe in all that...” He hesitates, thinking of what to say. “Then I don’t know.”

Liam nods slowly, staying silent. Louis internally thanks him for not saying anything, allowing him to fall backwards into his own head.

He’s seen his fair share of love. Pure bliss, long kisses, and high-pitched giggles from being so purely infatuated with each other. But that love never lasts. There’s always a secret. Always _something_ that tears the relationship apart from the inside out. Whether it’s an affair or something much smaller—like invading the other’s privacy—it’s always enough to make someone snap. He’s seen enough heartbreak in his life to know that there are many different variables to separation. But it always happens. Love isn’t real. Not when it can fade so easily.

*******

He inhales the smoke, letting it linger in his throat for a few moments. He closes his eyes at the burn, loving the feel of it. He opens his eyes again and breathes the smoke out slowly, watching it rise into the air.

“Didn’t know you were one for smoking,” Harry remarks, joining Louis at the balcony railing.

Louis smirks, taking another drag. “You could just ask, Hazza.” He hands over the cigarette, which Harry takes with practiced ease. Louis keeps an eye on him as he inhales without even a flinch, exhaling slowly. He gives it right back to Louis, who wastes no time in putting the cigarette out and dropping it to the ground. “So what’s up, baby?”

“I actually have a question to ask you,” Harry says, moving just the slightest bit closer.

“Go for it,” Louis says. He slowly makes his way around Harry so his back is pressed to his chest. Louis puts his hands over Harry’s, which are gripping the railing. Louis presses a gentle kiss to the back of his neck, inhaling to breathe in the scent of his hair.

“Well, we’ve been together for about six months now,” Harry says.

“Mhmm,” Louis hums, nipping at his ear.

“Meaning it’s been half a year,” Harry reminds him.

“Yes, Haz, I know,” Louis mutters.

“And I was thinking that it’s time you move in with me,” Harry says casually, as if he hasn’t just dropped an absolute bomb.

Louis freezes, his lips hovering above Harry’s skin. He scoffs softly, wrapping his arms around his waist. “You’re serious?”

“Yes, I’m serious,” Harry chuckles, holding Louis’s hands in his own. “I want you to move in with me. Here. Zayn’s house is going to be finished in a few months, so we’ll have the whole place to ourselves. It’ll just be us. Well, if you say yes, of course.”

“This whole place?” Louis asks with a smile on his face. “All to ourselves? Just you and me?”

“Mhmm,” Harry says.

“Well, how can I resist such an irresistible offer?” Louis questions, giggling softly. He spins Harry around to face him and drags him back into the house. He falls backwards onto the couch, taking Harry with him. He kisses him slowly and gently, lightly running his hands through Harry’s hair.

“So that’s a yes, then?” Harry whispers against Louis’s lips, a smile playing on his mouth.

“That’s a yes,” Louis replies, grinning from ear to ear.

Harry snickers softly. “Well, roommate. I think it’s about time we get your stuff over here.”


	21. Harry - I’ve Got Scars, Even Though They Can’t Always Be Seen

Harry’s never been this much of an idiot. He’s never forgotten about the whole reason he likes to wait in the first place when it comes to real relationships. He thought he’d gotten away with it. He though Louis still hadn’t noticed. He thought they’d both been too distracted by each other to see. But, sadly, he’s wrong.

They’re at Louis’s place, packing up his stuff. Harry’s rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to keep himself slightly cooler. But what he doesn’t realize is the fact that in doing so, he’s exposing the secret he’s tried so hard for so long to keep. And by the time he notices, it’s too late.

He looks up to find Louis staring at him with puzzlement in his gaze, making him frown. “What is it, Lou?”

“What’s that on your arm?” Louis asks, nodding to his exposed forearm. “The lines.”

Panicking internally, Harry looks down at his scars and instantly tugs his sleeves back down. He prays to whatever gods are up there that Louis isn’t as smart as his grades say he is and chuckles nervously. “I-It’s nothing.”

“Haz, I’m pretty sure I know when you’re lying to me,” Louis snaps, standing up straight and making his way over to Harry. He stops a few steps away and crosses his arms over his chest. “Show me.”

“Really, Louis, it’s not that big of a deal—”

Louis cuts Harry off by grabbing his right hand in a strong grip and rolling up his sleeve. Louis’s eyes widen slightly in surprise at the sight of the scars. They fade from raised skin the same color as Harry’s own into jagged, angry, and red marks the closer they get to his hand. The newest one has only really _just_ healed over, the stretch of the stitches still easily noticeable. Harry can’t help the tears that form in his eyes, threatening to fall.

“Harry...” Louis whispers, his eyes welling up with tears as well. “I... I...”

Harry quickly pulls his hand away and shoves his sleeve back down, looking at the ground. “Don’t say anything. Please.”

“Did...” Louis inhales tremulously. “Did you do that?”

“Yeah, Louis, I did,” Harry snaps. “Okay? I fucking cut myself. Once a month for over two years, the same day every time. So skip the goddamn pity speech and don’t try to talk me back to happiness. Alright? It’s not going to _fucking_ work. I’ve tried every trick in the book. Therapy, pills, even the fucking guidance counselor in secondary school tried to help. Nothing worked. I’m... I’m stuck like this.” He sniffles softly. “I’m broken. And there’s nothing you can do about it. So please don’t waste my time in trying to fix me.” He’s very much aware of the tears pouring down his cheeks, and tries desperately to wipe them away, even though he knows there’s no use. Louis is just standing there, his face blank. He hasn’t said a word. “Well, don’t just stand there! Say something, Louis!”

Slowly, Louis pulls down the collar of his shirt to reveal a burn scar on the side of his neck. Harry figured it’s just another one of the many others his Foster family inflicted on him. Again, he’s wrong. “I was sixteen. I was tired of the pain. I wanted to leave, but they wouldn’t let me. So one night, while everyone was sleeping, I burned myself. I... I tried to kill myself because I couldn’t handle the burden of hiding the scars. I was so _sick_ and _tired_ of crying myself to sleep every night, telling myself that _somehow_ everything will be alright!” His voice cracks. “I could barely walk into Homeroom and no one even noticed! I was dying both inside and out and not a single soul could tell. And I... I didn’t have anyone to help.” His cerulean blue eyes shine bright with tears, which slowly trail down his soft cheeks.

Unable to help himself, Harry suddenly blurts out—

“I think I’m in love with you.”

Louis sniffles softly, wiping his tears away with the sleeve of his large sweater. “What did you say?”

“Uh... I’m sorry?” Harry tries.

“I thought I already said that I can tell when you’re lying,” Louis growls. He takes a few steps forward, leaving almost zero space between them. “What. Did. You. Say?”

Harry gulps nervously, running his thumb along one of the scars on his left forearm. He gazes into Louis’s gorgeous eyes, feeling his heart somersault when he does so. And with confidence he hasn’t used in years, he repeats what he said before, his voice barely a whisper. “I think I’m in love with you.”

Louis surges forward, grabbing Harry’s face in both of his hands. He brings him forward, crashing their lips together. Harry grips Louis’s forearms in his own strong hands, lightly running his thumbs over the veins in his hands. He revels in the feeling of Louis’s lips on his own, letting himself melt into a puddle. But he also pulls away quickly, sobbing loudly right against his mouth. He doesn’t bother to even try ridding himself of his tears, knowing it’s no use.

Louis pulls him close, wrapping an arm around him and putting the other in his hair. Harry grabs uselessly at his sweatshirt, unintentionally—but also kind of intentionally—bringing them both down to their knees. He sobs into Louis’s chest, his hands coming up under his arms and grabbing fistfuls of his sweater fabric. He feels Louis tremble beneath his fingertips, barley holding back his own tears.

“I love you, too.”

That only makes Harry break down harder, every muscle in his body instantly relaxing as he relies on Louis and Louis only to hold him up. Harry feels as Louis drops his head onto his shoulder, weeping softly against him. They sit like that for what feels like an eternity, holding each other and just crying. It takes a while for Harry to process, but once he does, he can’t help the smile that lights up his face, even if it’s just for that one moment. He told Louis the truth. And Louis told him the same. And now... Well, he doesn’t know what. But it can’t get much worse than this, can it?


	22. Louis - Painted Nails Make Harry Beautiful

After their little “confession session,” Louis and Harry decided that they should bond a bit more. Just talk about their old lives. So that brings us to where they currently are, at Harry’s—well, supposedly it’s _theirs_ now—kitchen table.

“Nothing says ‘bonding’ like a good, old-fashioned makeover,” Harry says, pulling out a bag.

Louis frowns. “What’s that?”

“My nail polish bag,” Harry murmurs, a soft blush rising onto his cheeks.

Louis laughs loudly, taking the bag from his hand. He opens it up and begins to rifle through the many colorful bottles. “What color?”

“Mmm, maybe green,” Harry muses. “Or blue. Or both.”

Louis barks out a laugh as he pulls out a soft, meadow green and a cerulean blue. He sets them on the counter in front of Harry, whose face is lit up with a smile.

“Here’s the deal,” Louis says. “You do blue, I do green. We’ll be matching.”

Harry rolls his eyes, holding back a smirk. “You’re such a romantic.”

“It’s just in my blood,” Louis chuckles as he nudges the green polish closer to Harry. He picks it up, giving it a small shake before opening the bottle.

“Give me your hand, boo,” Harry demands, reaching a hand out to take Louis’s in his own. So Louis gives him his hand, smiling to himself as Harry starts on his left thumb, painting on the green.

Louis watches him work, noting everything he does. The way his brow furrows slightly in concentration, or the way his tongue sticks out of the corner of his mouth, or the way a few strands of his beautiful curls fall into his face as he keeps his head down to see better. Louis reaches up with his yet-to-be-painted hand and tucks a bit of Harry’s hair behind his ear. Harry looks up at him with a smirk before going right back to his work.

“You’re pretty,” Louis whispers.

Without so much as glance, Harry blushes lightly and says, “So are you.”

Louis chuckles softly at this and looks down at his hands, admiring every one of Harry’s brushstrokes.

“Turns out practice _does_ make perfect,” Louis mumbles to himself as he raises his nails to his eyes to examine them.

Harry laughs his beautiful, perfect, amazing laugh. “You’re up, lover boy.”

“Okay, for the record, I’ve only ever done this once and it was, like, hundreds of years ago.” Louis picks up the blue, shakes it, and twirls open the bottle. Harry lays his hands out in front of Louis as he starts slowly, painting on the first coat with small strokes. He can feel Harry’s eyes on him as he works, which makes a small smile tug at his lips. He’s so focused on what he’s doing that he almost misses when Harry starts talking.

“So... I was thinking,” he starts.

“About what?” Louis questions as he dips back into the bottle for more polish.

“I think it’s time,” Harry exhales.

“Time for what?” Louis basks with a frown.

“Time for me to out us,” Harry blurts out.

Louis freezes, the brush hovering barely an inch from Harry’s nail. He looks up slowly, neither frowning or smiling. “But that would mean...”

“Coming out, yes,” Harry sighs. “I’m... aware.”

“Are you sure you’re ready for that?” Louis asks. “I mean, not everybody’s gonna be... _okay_ with it.”

“I know,” Harry sighs, keeping his gaze on the table. “I know how society works, Lou. But I...” He scoffs softly. “I don’t want to hide anymore.”

Louis lets a warm smile rise to his lips. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Harry asks, finally looking into his eyes. “You’re okay with it?”

“Of course I am,” Louis says. “This isn’t about me. This is about _you_. And if you’re ready... then _I’m_ ready.”

Harry grins. “See, this is why I love you.”

Chuckling softly, Louis takes Harry’s chin in a gentle grip and pulls him closer. He presses their lips together, exhaling softly into Harry’s mouth.

“Alright then,” Harry whispers. “I’ve got an interview in a few days. It’s the perfect opportunity.”

Louis smiles against his lips. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” Harry says.

“Well, _I_ loved you _first_ ,” Louis says, caressing his cheek lightly.

“And _I_ love you _more_ ,” Harry says.

Louis growls softly. “Dammit.”

Harry chuckles. “Alright, finish up, baby. It’s getting late.”


	23. Harry: May I Have This Dance?

“So, Harry, there _is_ something that the _whole world_ is _dying_ to know,” Carrie (the interviewer) says.

“And what’s that?” Harry asks with a small chuckle.

“Is Harry Styles single?” she questions.

_Opportunity!_ Harry’s mind screams. _Opportunity, opportunity, opportunity!_

He gulps nervously. This is it. He’s gonna say it. He’s gonna burn that goddamn closet to the ground and say it. “No. He is not.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Really? Well, who’s the lucky girl?”

He purses his lips, inhaling deeply. With a swift exhale, he says, “ _His_ name is Louis.”

Carrie’s jaw hits the floor. Her blue eyes are wide with realization. “Wait. His?”

Harry nods. “Yep. Louis and I are seven and a half months strong.”

“Wait, hold on, back up,” she stammers. “Since when are you not straight?”

“Since two seconds from now when I come out to the millions of people watching,” he says with a small chuckle. “I’m bisexual, and I’m dating a _man_ named _Louis_. And I... love him.”

Carrie gives him a warm smile. “Thats’s amazing, Harry. I’m so happy for you. Congratulations.”

He smiles sheepishly, unable to help himself. “Uh, thank you.”

“So, you’ve been dating for seven months, you said?” At his nod, she asks, “Then are there any plans of marriage...?”

Harry’s eyes widen in surprise. He hasn’t even thought about that yet. “Uh... possibly. If the time is right.”

She smiles once more. “Well, _I_ , for one, would _love_ to see you walking down the aisle in a dress.”

He chuckles softly, a soft blush rising on his cheeks. “Don’t give me ideas, Carrie. I might just consider them.”

*******

“Did you see it?” Harry asks, throwing open the door to his bedroom to find Louis sprawled out on the bed.

“Yes, I did,” Louis replies, his cheeks and eyes shining with tears. He hops off the bed and runs over to Harry throwing his arms around him. “I love you so much.”

Harry wraps his arms around the small figure clinging to him like a baby, burying his face in Louis’s shoulder. “I love you, too, baby.”

“I loved you first,” Louis whispers.

“I love you more.” This has become a pretty normal routine between the two. They say those three little words and then add their own messages onto the end of it. And Harry adores it. He’s not sure if it’s just because he adores _Louis_ , but either way, he adores it.

To further prove his point, he starts humming ‘Adore You’ in Louis’s ear, swaying slowly to the beat. He then opens his mouth, singing the lyrics to him.

_“Walk in your rainbow paradise/Strawberry lipstick state of mind/I get so lost inside your eyes/Would you believe it?”_

Louis giggles softly, picking his head off of Harry’s shoulder. He replaces it with his hand, taking his other one and interlocking their fingers. Harry slides his hand down to Louis’s waist and grins as the slowly start dancing, Harry singing their music.

_“You don’t have to say you love me/You don’t have to say nothing/You don’t have to say you’re mine...”_

_“Oh, honey, I’d walk through fire for you/Just let me adore you/Oh, honey, I’d walk through fire for you/Just let me adore you/Like it’s the only thing I’ll ever do/Like it’s the only thing I’ll ever do.”_

Harry chuckles when he feels Louis step up onto his toes. “Lou, what are you doing?”

“I want to be as tall as you,” he pouts, looking down at his feet on top of Harry’s.

“But why?” he asks. “You’ll always be my little small bean.” He wraps both of his arms around Louis’s waist and Louis wraps his around Harry’s neck, tucking his head into his chest. Harry sways lightly and Louis follows right along with him. Almost not even realizing it, Harry changes the song he’s whispering.

_“If I could fly, I’d be coming right back home to you/I think I might give up everything, just ask me to/Pay attention, I hope that you’ll listen/‘Cause I let my guard down/Right now I’m completely defenseless...”_

Harry closes his eyes, letting the words flow through him.

_“For your eyes only, I’ll show you my heart/For when you’re lonely and forget who you are/I’m missing half of me when we’re apart/Now you know me/For your eyes only/For your eyes only...”_

He holds Louis tighter in his arms, feeling a lump form in his throat, which he forcefully pushes down.

_“I’ve got scars, even though they can’t always be seen/And pain gets hard, but now you’re here and I don’t feel a thing/Pay attention, I hope that you listen/‘Cause I let my guard down/Right now I’m completely defenseless...”_

_“For your eyes only, I’ll show you my heart/For when you’re lonely and forget who you are/I’m missing half of me when we’re apart/Now you know me/For your eyes only/For your eyes only...”_

_“I can feel your heart inside of mine/I feel it, I feel it/I’ve been going out of my mind/I feel it, I feel it/Know that I’m just wasting time and I hope that you don’t run from me...”_

When Louis sniffles softly, Harry can’t stop the tear that runs down his own cheek.

_“For your eyes only, I’ll show you my heart/For when you’re lonely and forget who you are/I’m missing half of me when we’re apart/Now you know me/For your eyes only...”_

_“For your eyes only, I’ll show you my heart/For when you’re lonely and forget who you are/I’m missing half of me when we’re apart/Now you know me/For your eyes only/For your eyes only...”_

As Harry finishes the song, his voice is barely audible. The way that Louis even hears it is astounding. But he does. And it makes Harry’s heart constrict painfully out of guilt. Why does he feel guilty?

You’ll have to ask him.

_“For your eyes only.”_


	24. Louis - Dream a Little Dream of Me

_“Louis, it’s about time your relationship comes to an end.”_

_Louis’s widen and he shoots to his feet. “What?! You can’t be serious, Simon!”_

_“That boy is ruining your career!” Simon argues._

_“‘That boy’,” Louis says, putting air-quotes around the words, “is the love of my life! You can’t take him away from me!”_

_“Yes, I can!” Simon cries, standing up from the couch. “You either end your relationship with him, or everyone else in your life!”_

_I scoff. “You can’t possibly—”_

_“Want to bet on that, Tomlinson?” he hisses._

_Louis stares at him in shock, still trying to pick his jaw up off the ground. He swallows thickly around the lump into his throat, desperately holding back tears. “But... Simon...”_

_“No excuses!” Simon snaps. “Get him out of your life.”_

_——————x——————_

_Louis knocks softly on the door, trying hard to keep his face blank. “Hazza? You in there?”_

_There’s the faint sound of footsteps, and then the door opens, revealing a smiling Harry. “Lou! I missed you!” He throws his arms around Louis, hugging him tightly._

God, why do you have to make this so hard on me, Harry? _Louis asks himself._

_“H-Hey, Haz,” he stammers softly when Harry pulls away._

_Noticing the sad look on Louis’s face, Harry frowns. “Is everything okay, baby?”_

_“Erm, can we...?” Louis inhales shakily. “Can we talk?”_

_With a hesitant nod, Harry moves to the side to allow Louis into the room. He steps into it, adjusting his sweater._

_“What is it, Louis?” Harry asks, shutting the door._

_Without turning to look at him, Louis says, “I can’t do this anymore.”_

_He can feel Harry’s frown. “What? You can’t do_ what _anymore?”_

_“Us,” Louis whispers._

_“What did you say?” Harry asks._

_Louis spins around, his face hard and his gaze angry. “I can’t do_ us _anymore, Harry!”_

_“Us?” Harry asks. “What? What are you talking about?”_

_“I don’t want to be with you anymore,” Louis hisses. “It’s as simple as that, Harry.”_

_“But...” Harry sniffles softly, tears forming in his usually gorgeous green eyes. “But we love each other.”_

_“Well, I don’t”—his voice cracks, so he tries again—“I don’t love you anymore.”_

——————x——————

Louis wakes with a loud gasp, sitting up straight. He groans loudly when he realizes it was just another dream, running a hand over his face.

“Another nightmare?” Harry whispers, rolling over on his side to face Louis.

“Yeah,” Louis says, looking down at him. “Sorry for waking you up. Go back to sleep.”

“But now I’m awake,” Harry points out, grabbing Louis by the shoulders and dragging him back down on the bed. Harry places his head on Louis’s chest, and Louis wraps his arms around him. “Tell me about it.”

Louis chuckles softly as he recalls it. “Um, we were in a band together. With Zayn and Liam and Niall, too.”

“What were we called?” Harry asks.

“One Direction,” Louis says.

Harry giggles softly. “That’s a cute name.”

“Pretty sure _you_ came up with it,” Louis says, looking down at him, green meeting blue.

“Well, then it’s perfect,” Harry says. “Because everything I come up with is the best there can be.”

Louis laughs loudly, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Of course. It’s the perfect name.”

“Tell me more,” Harry says. “What else happened?”

“Uh, we went on a bunch of tours,” Louis explains. “You and I fell in love.”

“As we should,” Harry says, both of them snickering.

“And then...” Louis face falls as he remembers what happened in his dream.

“Lou?” Harry questions with a frown. “What happened next?”

“Uh... there was this... this guy,” Louis says, gulping nervously. “Simon. I guess he... he kind of put us together. But he’s not a good person. He forced me to break up with you.” Louis sniffles softly, clenching his eyes shut and feeling a tear trail down his face.

Harry reaches up, wiping away the tear. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“Sorry,” Louis murmurs, wiping at his eyes. “Breaking up with you wasn’t very fun.”

Harry takes his chin in a gentle grip, turning his head to look at him. “Louis, baby, you know it was just a dream.”

“I-I know, but...” Louis lets out a soft sob, pressing his forehead to Harry’s. He kisses him gently, crying against his lips. “Please don’t leave me, Hazza.”

“I’ll never leave you,” Harry assures him softly. “Never in a million years.”

“I love you,” Louis whispers.

“I love you, too,” Harry says.

“I loved you first.”

“I love you more.”


	25. Harry - The Truth

Harry wakes up as the sun streams through the parted curtains, yawning as wide as his jaw will allow. Making sure not to disturb the sleeping Louis beside him, he moves carefully and quietly, rolling out of bed. He looks down at the clothes scattered around the floor, his kind trailing back to the night before. It was quite a fun night.

He picks up his own discarded button-down and a pair of boxers from his drawer, barely even bothering to button up the shirt. He leaves it hanging mostly open, like he used to do back when he was just discovering his fashion sense.

Man. Those were the good old days.

He makes his way to the bathroom, leaving the door slightly ajar. Sifting through the cluttered sink, he grabs his toothbrush and squirts a bit of toothpaste onto the bristles, placing the brush in his mouth. He moves it like he’s done since he was able to lift his own hands, brushing his teeth just like was taught.

He growls softly when pain shoots through his hand and forearm, forcing him to let go of the toothbrush. He replaces it with his other hand, having to slow down his motion, seeing as he’s no longer using his dominant hand. He clutches his throbbing hand into a fist, silently pleading for it to stop.

When he finishes brushing his teeth, he opens one of the cabinets and starts rifling through the many pill bottles he’s managed to hide from Louis all this time. He groans when he can’t find what he’s looking for, deciding it would be better to take them all out and look through them in the light. But he makes the mistake of grabbing the makeshift box with his injured hand, every single bottle clattering to the floor when it spasms violently.

“Fuck!” he cries, completely forgetting the reason he’s been keeping so quiet in the first place. He drops to his knees, gathering up the bottles.

“Hazza?” a groggy voice calls, footsteps following close behind. “What are you doing?”

 _Shit!_ Harry’s mind panics. _Shit, shit, shit!_

He tries his hardest to stuff all the pills away as quickly as he can, but he’s just not quick enough. He freezes with about five bottles clutched in both of his fists, which are hovering above the box. He lowers his hands at the sound of a sharp inhale, knowing there’s no possible excuse that could explain this.

“Harry,” Louis says slowly, disbelief in his soft voice. “Harry, what is this?”

Finally spotting the bottle he’s been looking for, Harry snatches it without a second thought. He gets to his feet, dropping four pills into his hand—which is about three above his actual prescription, might I add—and dry-shooting all of them. When he swallows them, he turns hesitantly to Louis, whose face is just a sea of multiple kinds of hurt.

“Louis—” Harry tries.

“Don’t.” His voice becomes stern and his eyes angry. “I don’t want to hear it.” He storms out of the doorway.

“See, Louis, this is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you!” Harry calls, hurrying after him.

“Tell me _what_?” Louis snaps over his shoulder as he grabs a pair of trousers from his drawer. “That my boyfriend’s two steps away from fucking overdosing?” He pulls his pants on.

“Yes, because I knew this is exactly how you’d react!” Harry says. “You’re freaking out!”

“Freaking out?” Louis scoffs, stuffing his feet into his shoes. “I’m freaking out?” His face goes hard once more. “Gee, Harry, I wonder why! Maybe it’s because I just found out the love of my life has been lying to me ever since the fucking beginning!”

“I have not been lying to you!” Harry protests.

“Oh, yeah?” Louis asks. “Then what did I just walk in on? You were fucking mortified when I called your name!”

“Because I didn’t want you to know!” Harry tells him.

“Well, now we’re just going in circles!” Louis spits out, grabbing his coat off the hanger. He shucks it on, Harry suddenly realizing what’s happening.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Leaving,” Louis hisses. “I’m spending the night at Liam’s.”

Harry’s eyes widen. “What? No! Don’t leave! C’mon, baby, let’s talk about this!”

“What is there to talk about?” Louis asks, throwing his arms up in exasperation. “You’re a goddamn drug addict and I can’t handle that right now!” He sighs softly. “Listen, Haz. I get that you’ve got you’re own problems to deal with, but you could have told me. I would’ve helped you. Instead, you waited too fucking long! We don’t lie to each other! I thought that became clear when I told you about all of my shit!”

“It did.”

“Then why did you lie?!” Louis shouts, tears welling up in his broken, blue eyes. He waits a moment, neither of them saying anything. “Come on, Harry, give me an answer!”

“I...” Harry stammers. “I don’t...”

“That’s what I thought,” Louis growls, grabbing the door handle. “Don’t bother calling. I won’t answer.” He throws open the door.

“But, Louis, wait—!” Harry is cut off by the door slamming in his face, placing two hands on the wood. It’s like his brain has stopped working. He can see, he can’t hear, he can’t feel. There’s just a ringing in his ears and the faint echo of his heart pounding violently against his chest.

But when reality _does_ come crashing back, he inhales sharply as if he can’t get enough air. He turns around slowly, pressing his back to the door.

He barely even acknowledges it when a tear trails down his cheek. Instead, he slides to the floor, staring blankly at the wall across from him. _Both_ of his hands are shaking now, but—once again—he doesn’t even notice. He just stares, having yet to process what just happened.

And when he does, he can physically feel as his heart tears in two. He lets a single word tumble from his mouth, practically just breathing it.

“Louis...”


	26. Louis - Did You Know?

Stomping up to the apartment door, Louis throws it open. He finds Zayn standing at the kitchen counter (probably making some sort of breakfast) and Liam standing in the doorway of the bathroom, his hair wet from the shower.

He frowns. “Louis? What are you doing here?”

But Louis doesn’t pay him any attention. Instead, he marches right up to Zayn, grabbing him by the shoulders. “Did you know?”

Eyes wide with confusion, Zayn says, “What? What are you talking about?”

“Did you know about the pills?!” Louis cries, feeling his eyes become warm with tears. “Did you know what he was hiding from me?! Did you know he's been lying to me?!”

Zayn frowns. “What? What the hell are you going on about?”

Louis suddenly feels strong hands on him, gently tugging him away from Zayn. “Louis, let him go. Let’s talk about this.”

“What is there to talk about?!" Louis screams, shoving Liam away and letting go of Zayn. He backs away to meet his friend’s mahogany gaze, his own sky blue one shining with tears. “He fucking lied to me! He had me believing he was fine for _so long_ , Liam! Instead, he’s been popping fucking pills the second I turn my back!”

“Lou, I’m sure he has an explanation—” Liam tries.

“No!” Louis yells, his voice breaking as tears run down his cheeks. “There’s no explanation that can fix this! We don’t...” A sob escapes him. “We never lie to each other.”

Liam takes a few steps towards him, wrapping his arms around him. He pulls Louis close to his chest, who clutches at the soft fabric with his small hands, loud sobs falling past his lips. He knows he’s soaking Liam’s shirt with his tears, but he really doesn’t care.

“It’s okay, Lou,” Liam soothes, rubbing his back. “It’ll be okay.”

“I-I-I d-don’t und... understand,” Louis stutters. “I thou- thought he lov- lov- loved me. Why...? Wh-Why w-w-would he l... l... l-lie?”

“Just calm down, Louis,” Liam whispers. “You’re tired. You need sleep. How about a warm shower?”

Louis nods minutely, sniffling softly. “Yeah. A shower.” He slowly pulls away, wiping frantically at his wet eyes.

“Okay,” Liam says. “I’ll fix your old bed up for you.”

Louis manages a small smile. “Th... Th... Thank y-you, Payno.”

Liam returns the smile, finally letting him go. “You remember how the shower works, right?”

That makes Louis giggle. “Three turns of the handle, six presses of the shower head, and it doesn’t work unless you keep a hand on it the whole time.”

Liam chuckles. “There’s the Louis I know.”

*******

Louis steps out of the shower, grabbing one of the towels hanging on the wall. He uses it to dry himself off, then wrapping it around his waist. He steps up to the mirror, running a hand through his soaked hair to try and get it to tame. But even when it’s too wet to stand on its own, it’s somehow spiky enough to hurt.

He sighs in defeat, placing his hands on either side of the sink and leaning against the white ceramic. He hangs his head down, his heart slamming against his rib cage. What the hell is he supposed to do now? He can’t go back to the house. He can’t even look Harry in the eye without falling to pieces. How will they possibly bounce back from this?

His head snaps up at the sound of voices. This would be normal, seeing as Zayn and Liam are both home, but the thing is...

There’s three of them.

“He doesn't want to see you.” Liam.

“Please, Liam, I need to explain.”

Louis inhales sharply. _Harry._

“He’s heartbroken because of you!” Liam snaps.

“Li, I think you’re overreacting just a bit,” Zayn cuts in. “I think Harry should get to say his part.”

“Please, for fuck’s sake, let me see him,” Harry begs. Even from the other room, Louis can hear the desperation in his voice.

Unable to take it anymore, Louis throws open the bathroom door, making sure to keep his gaze angry as it lands upon the three men standing in the living room. “Why don’t you let _Louis_ speak for himself?"

Harry pushes past Liam and Zayn, obvious pain in his mossy eyes. “Louis, can we please talk?”

“I have nothing to say to you,” Louis hisses.

“Just let me explain!” Harry cries.

“Explain _what_ exactly?” Louis asks, starting forward. This causes Harry to move back at the same time until they’re moving in sync. “I’m pretty sure I get the gist just fine. You’re sick. Not just physically, but in the head too. And the only way to keep it in check is by getting yourself to the edge every damn day. But you never actually take that final step, do you? No, you don’t. Wanna know why? Because you’re a coward, Harry! You can’t kill yourself because you’re too terrified of what’ll happen when you do! Is that enough of an explanation for you? Huh? Or do you need me to go further?” Louis knows what he’s saying is _beyond_ wrong, but he just can’t stop. “Do you want to know why nobody cares about celebrities’ mental health? Because nobody wants to deal with that shit. Nobody wants to know that _they’re_ the cause of someone’s heartache and sadness. So why don’t you do us all a favor, huh? Take that final step for me, will you?” He slams the door in Harry’s face, fuming in anger.

Liam and Zayn are both silent. Louis can feel their shocked eyes boring into him, but he doesn’t bother to meet their gaze. He _can’t_. Because he’s too busy gaping at the door, realizing what just happened. He lifts his hand off of the white wood, his fingers shaking violently. A question makes its way past his lips, followed by gasps of despair.

“What have I done?”


	27. Harry - What Am I Now?

Harry gapes at the door when it slams in his face, his breathing quickening on its own. Every inhale is shaky and shuddering, his chest rising and falling quickly as he pants heavily. He backs away from the door, Louis’s words echoing in his head.

_So why don’t you do us all a favor, huh? Take that final step for me, will you?_

He puts a hand up to cover his mouth, letting out a gasp of disbelief. That did not just happen. There’s no way Louis just said all that. He’d never do that.

Would he?

Before anyone in the hallway can see him breakdown outside Louis’s door, he sprints down the corridor and out of the building.

*******

“Two minutes, Styles!” one of the directors calls from outside the door.

Harry sighs at this, putting his head in his hands. He looks up at himself in the mirror, his heart still pounding harder than it ever has. He runs a gloved hand through his hair, practically hyperventilating at this point. He glances at the drawers in his vanity, a soft exhale escaping him. He opens the top one, pulling out the bottle of pills. Biting his lip, he pops it open and drops four pills into his hand. He swallows them all, clutching his hand into a fist.

There’s another knock at the door. “Harry? It’s Zayn.”

He inhales sharply, shoving the bottle back into the drawer. “C-Come in!”

The door opens, revealing a black-clad Zayn. Black beanie, black shoes, black shirt, black jeans, black jacket. He steps into the room, closing the door behind him. “Uh... how are you?”

“Fine,” Harry growls through gritted teeth. “Never been better.”

“The fact that you think you can still get away with terrible lies like that amazes me,” Zayn says with an eye-roll. “Tell me the truth.”

“Well, what do you want to hear?” Harry snaps, turning in his chair to face him. “Louis—who’s the love of my life, might I add—told me to fucking kill myself without a second thought. He didn’t even hesitate, Zayn. He hates me for lying to him, and he has every right to. He poured his heart out to me and I locked mine away. _I_ did this to him. It’s _my_ fault he hates me.”

“Well, you don’t have to just give up!” Zayn tries. “Talk to him!”

“I _tried_!” Harry shouts, standing up. “You were there, Z! He fucking despises me!”

“Harry, come on!” a man calls from outside the door. “You’re on any second now!”

“You heard the man,” Harry snaps, adjusting his lace gloves. “I’ve got places to be. A show to put on.” He meets Zayn’s gaze. “A crowd-full of breath to take away.” He pushes past him and out of the dressing room, praying to whoever is really up there that he makes it through the show without falling to pieces.

*******

Harry listens for that familiar piano to start, inhaling shakily when it does. He knows this song by heart. He _wrote_ it, for Pete’s sake. And yet, for some reason, it gets him every time. He hasn’t even started singing yet and he’s already struggling to hold back tears.

And when he _does_ open his mouth to sing that first word, it’s with a whole lot of passion behind it. Usually, he sings this song for himself and for his fans. It’s the song he uses to open up. But now... Now it has a whole new meaning. Now he sings it for Louis. He knows this is his favorite song. And he knows that it holds a special place in both of their hearts.

So, yeah. This time is different. This time... This time he finally understands the words.

“I’m in my bed and you’re not here/And there’s no one to blame but the drink and my wandering hands/Forget what I said/It’s not what I meant/And I can’t take it back, I can’t unpack the baggage you left.”

Harry clenches his eyes shut as he moves onto the chorus, trying so desperately hard not to break.

“What am I now?/What am I now?/What if I’m someone I don’t want around?/I’m falling again, I’m falling again, I’m falling/What if I’m down?/What if I’m out?/What if I’m someone you won’t talk about?/I’m falling again, I’m falling again, I’m falling.”

He swears softly under his breath when he feels his eyes become warm with tears.

“You said you cared and you missed me too/And I’m well aware I write too many songs about you/The coffee’s out at the Beechwood Café/And it kills me ‘cause I know we’ve run out of things we can say.”

He cringes when his voice breaks on the last note, breathing deeply.

“What am I now?/What am I now?/What if I’m someone I don’t want around?/I’m falling again, I’m falling again, I’m falling/What if I’m down?/What if I’m out?/What if I’m someone you won’t talk about?/I’m falling again, I’m falling again, I’m falling.”

“And I get the feeling that you’ll never need me again...”

Harry sings with all the emotion he can fucking muster, tears rolling down his cheeks at this point. But he doesn’t move to get rid of them. Why? Because maybe now the world will realize that there’s more to him than the smile he wears as a mask. Maybe the world will realize that he’s actually completely fucked up and downright exhausted. He’s so tired. He can’t keep this goddamn facade up for much longer.

“What am I now?/What am I now?/What if you’re someone I just want around?/I’m falling again, I’m falling again, I’m falling/What if I’m down?/What if I’m out?/What if I’m someone you won’t talk about?/I’m falling again, I’m falling again, I’m falling.”

As the song ends, Harry turns away from the microphone, wiping away his tears with the pads of his thumbs. He sniffles softly, the sound drowned about by the loud clapping around him. Wow. Are they really so blind?

He gets off the stage as quickly as he can, racing back to his dressing room, slamming the door behind him. He drops to the ground, immediately letting out a loud sob. He hugs his knees to his chest, burying his head between them and practically fucking howling in despair. He tugs off his stupid lace gloves and kicks off his stupid Italian leather shoes and messes up his stupid curly hair. He’s so sick of having to be perfect. Why can’t he just do something _he_ wants to do for once instead of something his management _makes_ him do?

His head snaps up and he snatches his phone out of the bag beside him, quickly dialing a number he never thought he’d have he chance to look at again. He raises the phone to his ear with a shaky hand, inhaling deeply.


	28. Louis - Voicemail

⚠️TRIGGER WARNING!!!⚠️ IN CASE YOU DIDN’T READ THE AUTHOR’S NOTE AT THE BEGINNING OF THE STORY, THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS HIGH AMOUNTS OF SUICIDE AND SELF-HARM. IF THIS MAKES YOU QUEEZY, SKIP TO THE NEXT CHAPTER

*******

(A/N: *insert black and white picture of Louis and Harry laughing like the amazing angels they are*)

Liked by **zayn** , **niallhoran** , and **8,897,056 others**  
**harrystyles** I do believe I’ve fallen again and I’m afraid that this time, I can’t stand back up. I’m afraid that this time, it’s more than just the end of a relationship. I will miss you all, but Louis... Well, just check your voicemail. I love you from now until forever. Forever yours, H 💚

**shawnmendes** someone pls explain to me why this sounds like a suicide note

**zayn** Harry, answer my fucking texts. what the hell is going on with you??

**larry4eva** Everybody tag Louis he really needs to see this. @louist91

**bluegreen** @louist91

**loubearismybae** @louist91

*******

_larry4eva tagged you in a post._

_bluegreen tagged you in a post._

_loubearismybae tagged you in a post._

Louis groans loudly when his phone keeps buzzing like a goddamn bee, so much so that it manages to slide itself off his bedside table. He swears softly at this, leaning over to pick it up off the ground. He opens it to find over two hundred notifications saying people tagged him in a post on Instagram and another fifty from Zayn, Niall, and Liam combined. He frowns at this, opening Zayn’s texts first.

**Zayn  
10:43**  
you have to talk to him, Louis, we’re all worried  
cmon, man, look at your goddamn phone! cant you see he’s hurting?  
Louis wake the fuck up!!!  
check Instagram for fuck’s sake, Tomlinson  
get your ass out of bed and go make up with him before he does something stupid that the whole world regrets!!!!

Louis frowns at this, going to Liam’s messages next.

**Liam  
10:35**  
Louis, please, wake up!  
I’m scared of what he’s going to do to himself. Please, help him before it’s too late.  
We’re all so worried, Lou  
I know you still love him. And he loves you. SAVE HIM!!!!

**Niall  
9:58**  
I know we don’t know each other all that well, but please, help him. I’m scared that he’s going to hurt himself. Check Instagram, for God’s sake, Louis. Or check your voicemail. One or the other. Just do it and tell us he’s alright.

Louis feels his heart stop at the words he reads. They’re overreacting, right? He’d never actually do all that, right? HE’S JUST PANICKING, RIGHT?!

Louis opens all those messages saying people tagged him in a post, his eyes widening when he sees what post it is. He can barely breathe.

And right before his eyes, another one pops up.

(A/N: *insert that manip of Louis fixing Harry’s tie with James Corden in the background*)

Liked by **loubearismybae** , **kendalljenner** , and **11,287,945 others**  
**harrystyles** I’ve been hiding for so long and I think it’s about time I come clean. My mental health over the past few years has not been great. Actually, it’s been awful. I've gone through multiple spirals of depression and anxiety that have caused some of my closest friends and family to leave, including you, Louis. I don’t even know if you’ll get to see this before you hear about what happens in the news, but know that I love you. So much. There once was a time when you would say that you loved me, and I’d say it back. And then you’d tell me that you loved me first, but I loved you more. Well, I now realize that I love you beyond recognition. There are no words that can possibly express just how much I absolutely adore you. Because I do. I adore you, Louis Tomlinson. Now, please, check your voicemail. I think it’s time you hear what I have to say.

**zayn** i hate where this is going so fucking much

**liampayne** Harry, you do realize that if you do this, it’ll only hurt him more, right? Do you really want to do that to him? After everything?

**shawnmendes** nope. *this* is the suicide note. Louis, I don’t exactly know who you are, but PLEASE help him!

Louis inhales sharply, rolling out of bed. He grabs a loose pair of jeans and a t-shirt that is about two sizes too big, throwing both on. He realizes with a jolt that it’s actually one of _Harry’s_ t-shirts that he stole from him.

Before the tears can fall, he shoves his feet into his sneakers and grabs one of his baggy sweaters, barely letting it fall all the way down to where it’s supposed to rest at his waist before hurrying out of the apartment. He sprints down to his car, sliding into the driver’s seat and starting the vehicle. As he pulls out of the parking lot, he opens his voicemail, just like everyone’s been telling him to, and clicks on the one from Harry.

_“Hey, Lou.”_

Louis feels his eyes well up just at the sound of his voice, pressing harder on the gas pedal.

_“It’s me, Harry. Well, you know that, heh. Um... I don’t really know how to start this. I was planning on telling you everything that’s ever happened to me, just like you did. But now... Well, I don’t know what to tell you. I think by now you’ve pieced together what I’m about to do. I’m taking your advice. I’m taking that final step for you, just like you told me to.”_

“No, no, no!” Louis cries, slamming his hand down on the steering wheel. “Don’t listen to me! I was upset! I didn’t mean it!”

_“Life’s just... really hard without you. I don’t know how I can possibly keep going on like this, pretending to be happy. I don’t know how I can possibly live without you there beside me. And I know you’ll miss me, but it’s time. Please tell me you’ll be okay. I mean, I know you won’t, but you’ll get over it, right? After all, you’re the one that gave me the idea.”_

“No, I was hurting!” Louis shouts at his phone, tears rolling down his face. “I’ll _never_ be okay!”

_“I hope you understand. You’ll find me in my bathroom. Please don’t tell the others how you find me. I only want you to know.”_

“Hazza...” Louis whispers, his hands shaking so badly that he can barely hold onto his phone.

_“I better go. I love you. Well, you know that. Goodbye forever, Lou.”_

Louis slams his phone down on the seat next to him as the message ends, slamming his fists against the steering wheel. He runs more than one red light, but he really doesn’t care. He just needs to get home.

He pulls into the driveway wildly, barely waiting for his car to come to a full stop before he’s jumping out of it. He sprints up to the front door, throwing it open. He runs as fast as he can through the house, reaching the bathroom in a time that should probably get him an award. He rattles the door handle, finding it locked. So he rams his shoulder against the door, gritting his teeth when pain flares through his arm. But he does it again, because he _needs_ to get in there.

The door flies open, Louis stumbling into the room. A sob escapes him at the sight before him.

Harry is laying in a pool of his own blood, two large and deep cuts on both of his forearms. His skin is rather pale, beads of sweat on his usually perfectly clear skin. His shirt is already soaked scarlet red, blood smudged over his cheeks.

Louis runs over to him, dropping to his knees. He grabs Harry by his shoulders, placing a hand behind his head to keep it up, seeing as he’s unconscious. He wails in both desperation and sadness, barely even registering the fact that he’s getting Harry’s blood all over himself.

“Harry!” he cries, his voice breaking as he shakes him to try and get him to wake up. “Harry, open your goddamn eyes! P-Please!”

But Harry doesn’t even flinch. His lips only part slightly as his head rolls back.

“Harry, for fuck’s sake!” Louis sobs. “I still need you! I still _want_ you! C’mon!”

_Heartbeat,_ says a voice in the back of his mind that sounds suspiciously like Harry. _Check for a heartbeat._

Louis does just that, lowering his ear to Harry’s chest. He panics for a moment when he can’t hear anything, but sighs in relief when he catches the faint, rhythmic thump of his heart.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket with his blood-covered hands, pulling Harry’s limp body to his chest. He calls for an ambulance, honestly amazed that he manages to get out more than one coherent sentence. He then throws his phone across the room, ignoring the shatter of glass that follows. He holds Harry tight against him, rocking them slowly.

“You’re going to be just fine, Haz,” Louis whispers, his face warm from both tears and the slightest bit of blood he’s gotten on it. “Just fine.” His voice breaks on the last word and he just can’t keep it in anymore. He buries his face in the crook of Harry’s neck, tears running down his cheeks. “You said you’d never leave me. Why’d you do it? Why’d you try to leave?”

*******

“Louis. Louis, it’s Liam. I’m right here.”

Louis stares down at his bloody hands, his breathing shaky and uneven. Almost every part of him has at least a little bit of Harry’s blood smudged over it. But Louis doesn’t notice. He’s in goddamn shock. He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know how to feel. It’s like he’s forgotten how to breathe.

“Lou, look at me.”

Louis does as Liam says, his gaze almost numb as he looks into his friend’s brown eyes. He’s aware of Liam holding his hands in his own and trying to tell him it’ll be alright, but—once again—he doesn’t hear it. His ears are ringing. His vision is blurry. His heart is split in two.

“Mr. Tomlinson, right?”

Louis slowly looks up at the nurse, nodding minutely.

“He’s awake.”


End file.
